Broken Souls
by PastaLovingIdjit
Summary: Sometimes the people who smile the brightest are the ones that are hurting the most. The ones that laugh the loudest are the ones who silently cry. When the other nations begin to realize the two happy nations on either side of the globe are not as happy as they seem, how will the world come together to help their friends? Rated T for Romano. Full summary inside. GerIta and USUK
1. Part One: Idiot Hero Chapter 1

**Hey guys so this is just something that's I've been kicking around on my laptop for a while and I've decided to finally put it up here. I've broken this story up into two parts, part one being America's story and part two being Italy's. Just a warning now that both parts contain self-harm and alcohol throughout so if that's a trigger for anyone then they shouldn't read this. The full summary is below.**

**I don't own Hetalia sadly :(**

Sometimes the people who smile the brightest are the ones that are hurting the most. The ones that laugh the loudest are the ones who silently cry. The two happiest and brightest nations at the World Meetings are both hiding dark secrets from the other nations. While America may have the biggest smile and most obnoxious laugh of all the nations, inside he's waging a very dark war. Italy may seem the warmest and kindest nation to the untrained eye, but inside he's been dead for quite a long time. When the other nations begin to realize the two happy nations on either side of the globe are not as happy as they seem, how will the world come together to help their friends?

Part One: The Idiot Hero

Chapter 1

(America)

The clock exploded next to his ear on the nightstand as the alarm went off. The noise caused him to jump and tumble out of bed, landing on the wooden floor with a solid _thud_. He scrambled to his feet as he lifted a hand and turned off the ear-splitting shrills. After he calmed his racing heart he glanced at the clock. It said that it was seven-thirty. The World Meeting today would start around nine. America had made sure to make himself wake up a bit earlier than normal since he was hosting this time around, and sadly that meant that he had to get to the meeting on time. America groaned. He had absolutely no energy to deal with anything today. He seriously contemplated just crawling back into bed and shutting out the world, but that wouldn't do. The other countries would notice his absence and come over to check on him. The last thing America wanted was for the other nations to come into his house and discover him like _this_.

He went over to his closet to pick out his suit. He donned a light blue dress shirt and tan trousers, expertly wrapping a navy blue tie around the shirt's collar. For the finishing touch he put on his bomber jacket. He couldn't remember the number of times England had told him to wear a proper suit instead of the jacket, but America didn't care. He loved that bomber jacket way too much to go anywhere without it. Besides, it hid his arms much better than a suit did.

He attempted to comb his hair, trying to get Nantucket to stay down for once in its life. However, as usual the cowlick refused to stop defying gravity and stayed put. America sighed tiredly. Why did he even bother trying to keep his hair down when he knew it would not? He supposed it was a force of habit. He glanced at himself in the mirror. He looked like a walking ghost (no offense to Canada) and he felt like one too. He pinched his cheeks hard to bring back a little color to them. It was all he could do these days to make himself look cheerful.

America then proceeded to make his way downstairs and to the kitchen for some coffee. He hadn't been sleeping well for quite a while now. Actually, America couldn't remember the last time he'd slept through the night without waking up in tears from another nightmare. Except they weren't nightmares, because then that would make the things he saw not real. He glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was eight-fifteen now. He had just enough time to brush his teeth quickly and pour himself another cup of coffee before he ran to the meeting. He glanced at the barely touched coffee, his stomach dull. He really wasn't hungry or thirsty enough to finish this cup, let alone force down another, but it was the only way to give himself enough energy to make it through the meeting. He quickly forced the cup down and ran upstairs to brush his teeth.

He was walking out the door with briefcase full of ideas and notes for the meeting and his second coffee. The place the meeting was being held wasn't too far from America's house so he decided to forgo the car and just walk there. Maybe something would brighten his dismal mood along the way. It was early on Friday and the only people out on the street either going to work or school. America walked past a bus station filled with kids waiting to catch the morning bus. He felt himself smile slightly as he watched the kids chattering away happily. Maybe, today wouldn't be one of those days after all. Suddenly a pair of boys ran past America, nearly running into him. "Sorry," the older one called out as he quickly turned his head to glance at America.

"Johnny, try to take better care of yourself and your brother," a woman called out a little ahead of America. He just smiled at the kids.

"It's okay guys," he said happily. The children smiled, Johnny taking his brothers hand.

"Don't worry mom. I'll always protect Jimmy!" he called to his mother. America felt his body freeze.

_"No Jimmy, I told mom that I'd always protect you. I promised her I'd bring you home!" _

"And thanks mister," the boy said to America before barreling down the street with Jimmy, the boy turning to give America a sheepish smile. America stared at their retreating figures until they got swept up in the crowd, his heart pounding a mile a minute, his hand trembling. He could feel it coming on. He had to get away, out of the public before he made a scene. He hastily retreated from the busy sidewalk and into a deserted alley. America leaned against the side of the brick building, the tears burning in his eyes as the memory over took him.

_Loud noises crashed and exploded around America's ears. He had been brought up to the front lines in Antietam, orders from his superiors. America felt sick as he saw men being slaughtered on either side of the battlefield, a few by his own musket. He still couldn't believe it was happening, he couldn't believe that his own people would fight one another, and that he'd be forced to pick a side. These were his own _people_ for god's sake and he was killing them. America bent over and puked, his head dizzy. He could feel each death as one man took another's life as if it were his own. So many people had already died in this one battle, how much longer did this have to go on for? It didn't help either, that being a nation meant that he could hear the sounds of his divided people screaming and crying at each other in his head. There were too many voices to count and they overwhelmed America's mind at times. Sometimes he couldn't remember if he was a confederate or a union soldier._

_Eventually the battle winded down as the union soldiers drove the confederates back. Soon all they were left with was the dead and wounded. America couldn't believe the body count as he looked around the battlefield. "… So many men," he murmured to himself, tears sliding down his face._

_"__Come on," their commanding officer told them. "We need to do a body count. Alfred… stay back," the officer said, looking at America. For the most part, nobody knew that America existed as a person. Only those with the highest clearance knew about his existence. To cover up the fact that he was a nation, America had created a human name for himself, all the nations had. To everyone else he was known as Alfred F. Jones. America kept back as the men began to look for survivors. His commanding officer, Major General McClellan was one of those few with the clearance to know about America. "… I know this must be the hardest part for you," he told him, a sad look in his eyes. America looked away from the General, his eyes misty. _

_"__There are so many dead this time," America told him miserably. "How long must this war go on for?" The General sighed. _

_"__Until one side wins," he replied solemnly._

_They had remained silent until a strangled screech shattered the morbid silence. "Jimmy? Oh god Jimmy no!" America looked over and saw a young union soldier America recognized as Johnny desperately holding a young confederate soldier to his chest, sobbing loudly. "Dammit Jimmy, you weren't supposed to be here!" Johnny sobbed. "I told mom I was going to bring you back home after this. I promised her I'd bring you home!" America looked at the young man, horror dawning on him. He looked down at his grimy hand, beginning to shake, imagining blood dripping from them. He never forgot a face of someone he had personally killed._

America wiped his eyes angrily, trying to get rid of the damn tears, but they just kept coming. He was sitting on the pavement; his legs had refused to hold his weight anymore. He glanced at his phone, trying to blink away the blurry vision. Eight-forty. He only had twenty minutes to get to the meeting, but he couldn't walk in looking like this. America looked at his shaky hands and could all too clearly see the grime and blood on them. He shook his head firmly, the image slipping away. _God I can't do this_, America panicked. He felt like he was being ripped a part, but only from the inside. The voices that echoed down the alley from the increasingly busy street twisted into cries of pain and screams of terror in America's ears, causing the uncontrollable shaking to grow. Carefully he reached into the briefcase and pulled out a small metal flask, pouring half its contents into the coffee. He had been saving it for later but he needed to get his nerves under control now. It didn't matter so much. There was plenty more where this came from.

**Alright well that's the end of the first chapter. Hope you guys liked it! **

**I know Al's is always super spontaneous and obnoxious (and I love him for that trust me) but I also think he can be quite the opposite when he's alone**

**Anyways I'll be updating this soon since I've had this all written down for a while now. R&R?**

**See you lovelies later!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys I'm back with a new chapter! I'm really going to try and stick to my promise of updating this every few days! Also thanks to everyone who followed/reviewed and all that! It makes me a happy person!**

**I apologize in advance for this chapter being so short. I didn't even realize it was going to be this short until I put it up here, so again I'm sorry**

**I don't own Hetalia or the nations our else I'd be hugging them all to death ;)**

Chapter 2

(America)

Thank god he had made it on time. He'd had to literally run as fast as his inhuman body could go to make it there on time after pulling his sorry self together. Now right outside the door America straightened out his outfit, carefully tugging the bomber sleeves down past his wrists. He prepared his 120-watt smile before bursting through the doors enthusiastically. "Don't worry everyone, the hero's finally arrived!" As usual, the only ones who had arrived before him were Germany, England, and Russia. Thank god he didn't have to entertain more countries at the moment. His mind was still a bit of a mess, though the new and improved coffee was helping. "You git, don't you have an indoor voice!" England snapped at him. America smiled innocently in return.

"Aw, Iggy don't be like that," he teased.

"Dammit stop calling me Iggy!" he retorted angrily, his cheeks slightly pink. Germany looked surprised to see the American here so early.

"I'm glad you've finally arrived early for once," Germany commented. America turned to him and smiled while England looked at his watch and then back at him with widened eyes. Russia just sat there, smiling innocently at him. "I think this is the first time you've arrived on time for anything," England stated in amazement. America smiled as he sauntered over and took his seat next to England. "Don't you know, I'm just full of surprises," he said enthusiastically. England sighed, his face turning red. Clearly he was already getting annoyed.

As soon as everyone looked away America dropped the smile, the effort of keeping it up draining him. Sadly though it had to come back up as the other countries slowly began to file in. Japan and China came in, sitting near Russia, while the Italy brothers came in, Spain in tow. Italy sat down happily next to Germany while Romano sat on his other side and started cursing the Spaniard in Italian when he sat down beside him. Next up was Canada and France. France took his usual seat next to England. Five seconds in and they were already arguing over some petty issue, just like always. America used to find them funny, but now they just irritated the shit out of him. His brain pounded painfully against his skull. Couldn't they shut up for five-freakin-seconds? Canada quietly sat down next to him, barely noticed by anyone. His polar bear, Kumajirou, looked up at his master and then looked around at the other arriving nations.

The last nations to come in were Prussia (though he's not really a country anymore. America wondered sometimes how he was still around), followed by Hungary, Austria, the Baltics, Poland, Belarus, Lichtenstein, Switzerland and a butt load of other countries he didn't take the time to recognize. When everyone had taken their seats he allowed Germany to take control of the meeting since he was best with this sort of thing, allowing America to just fade away from almost all the other nations. "… and that is where we stand on the current issue. Does anybody have any ideas?"

"Ooh, ooh I do," America shouted, flinging his hand up into the air.

"Just give it a rest would you," England said tiredly. He glanced over at him, his hand lowering. "Please, we don't need to hear another one of your stupid ideas that involves superheroes miraculously saving the day," he continued, laying the sarcasm on heavy. America felt his smile falter for a moment, his words hurting, but then he quickly slapped it back up when he glanced at him. "Hahahaha you're right as usual Iggy," he said in a forced clueless tone. England smiled in approval. "Yes, just leave this to the adults," he replied before turning back to everyone else. America looked at his brief case and sighed, his eyes itching. Unlike what England said, he actually did have a legitimate idea. It's just that no one expected him to say anything that would make sense so they shut him down before he could say anything. Nobody had ever had any faith in America and probably never would. His gloom intensified and he dug his fingers into his legs to keep from showing any emotion.

Eventually Germany called for a break halfway through. While everyone went off to have lunch in the courtyard, America took his briefcase and headed towards the bathroom, making sure no one followed him. Once he locked himself in a stall he opened the case and pulled the metal flask back out. The last half of the meeting was going to be hell, so it was a good thing he had brought some of the strong stuff this time around. He drained the flask in a matter of minutes, the cold liquid burning down his throat. The effects were instantaneous. He could already feel his mood beginning to lighten a little and his frayed nerves calmed down a bit. He walked out of the stall, preparing for another hour in hell when he suddenly stopped.

Canada was standing in the bathroom, watching him curiously. Shit, he didn't feel completely together yet, but he had to make it past his twin brother. "Hey Mattie, what's up?" America asked the slightest of slurs in his voice. He had brought the _really _heavy stuff for this meeting. Canada's human name was Matthew. Calling another nation by their human name was a sign of the closeness between two countries, and you couldn't get much closer than being twins! Being the over-analyzing type that he was, America prayed that he wouldn't pick up on the slight slur. He didn't seem to notice though his polar bear wrinkled his nose at him in disgust. "Oh nothing much. I was just looking around for you since I didn't see you out in the courtyard eating six hamburgers like you usually do," he replied quietly with a small smile. America laughed.

"Nah, just had to take a piss before heading out," he replied happily. He started to walk past Mattie and towards the door. "You coming Mattie?" he asked casually. Matthew stood still for a moment, his back turned to him before turning around and smiling. "Yeah, sure," he replied in that quiet whisper voice of his.

**Ugh, I'm seriously sorry about the shortness of this. I will be using human names a lot but the country that's in focus for the chapter will refer to himself by his nation's name. I'll put the next chapter up soon, maybe within the next day or so!**

**See you guys later!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright lovelies I'm back with the next chapter, yay! I feel like I'm being too perky though cause like this is some seriously depressing stuff, but I suppose that's the reason I am trying to be perky. I don't think it's working though... sigh...**

Chapter 3

(Canada)

Canada didn't want to believe what he'd just seen. He didn't want to think about what that smell around Alfred had meant. Kumajirou looked up at him worriedly. "Who are you?" he asked and for the first time in a while he didn't answer him back. He was too worried about Alfred.

Canada snuck a peek at him as Alfred walked ahead of him down the hall, chatting loudly with him, probably trying to distract him, but Canada wouldn't let him. They went out to the courtyard where all the other countries were having lunch. He made sure that Alfred ate all six hamburgers he'd bought from McDonalds on the way here.

Then he saw it, the slight grimace in Alfred's eyes as he forced the second hamburger down. It was there only a millisecond, but he had seen it. It terrified him. Alfred was _forcing_ himself to eat the hamburgers, something very un-Alfred like. It meant things were far worse than he'd feared. He'd have to tell someone. Canada looked around at the other countries, realizing there wasn't really anyone for him to turn to. Not many countries liked Alfred, even fewer would help him out. Then he rested his eyes on England, currently arguing with France. Maybe he could ask him, he and Alfred were still pretty close.

He waited until after the meeting to find England. Alfred yelled his goodbyes and had practically sprinted out of the meeting room as soon as Germany said the meeting was done. Canada waited quietly until it was just him and England in the room. He was just about done packing up when Canada came over. "Um, England?" England jumped slightly and then looked up.

"Oh sorry Matthew," he said apologetically. "I didn't realize you were still here. I thought America had dragged you over to his place again."

"Um… actually can we talk about Alfred?" Canada asked. England looked at him, the hairy caterpillars on his face (sorry, eyebrows) furrowing together.

"What about America?" he asked.

"Well… um, I think something is going on with him," he began, not sure how to phrase his growing worry. The Brit sighed.

"Something is always going on with him," he replied back dryly and went back to packing his case.

"Yeah, but this is something… bad." England looked back up at him.

"Great, what has he done his time?" the island nation asked exasperated. Canada shrugged.

"I don't know, but it has me worried. Could you maybe come over to Alfred's house with me later?" England narrowed his eyes at him for a moment, trying to ascertain how serious the issue was. "Please?" he asked. England sighed.

"Well alright then. If you're so worried then it wouldn't hurt to stop by the idiot's house," he concluded.

…

(America)

He couldn't wait to get home, to get away from all the unnecessary drama. He didn't know why he bothered to go to these meetings anymore. All it ever did for him was get him publically humiliated by the other countries. They all probably thought that he was just a fun toy for them to play with and then carelessly throw to the side when they were done with him.

He stumbled into his house, throwing off his shoes and throwing his brief case by the stairs in the process. America could hear noises coming from the living room. Tony, his alien friend, must be playing one of those new videogames Japan had sent over. He was half-tempted to join him, for old-time's sake, but he was just in too much pain and videogames couldn't help it. He made his way over to the door leading to the basement, telling Tony not to come down.

Down in the basement he made his way over to the wine cellar. America perused the options of alcohol at his disposal, wondering how much pain he wanted to erase. Today had just been one of those days though. An image of Johnny and Jimmy flashed through his head, causing a knot to form in his throat. Yeah, he definitely needed the hard stuff today.

He sat down on an old worn chair, a heavy bottle of clear liquid inside. He turned on the TV, already knowing what he'd see on the screen. "_Nine students brutally murdered with five more in critical condition. Police say the gunman was a young boy from the school…_" His breath hitched as he took a swig of the alcohol. Why did they keep doing this to him? Why did they keep hurting him this way? Why did they keep hurting _themselves_?

America took another swig, the tears already falling down his faces. God why did he have to keep feeling this pain? It was unbearable. When would the pain finally just stop?

**God I feel so bad about writing our happy, burger-loving American like this T-T I hope you can all forgive me**

**Sorry it's a short chapter, but things are going to start heating up very soon now that our irate Brit is being dragged in ;)**

**Until next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! I was going to post this tomorrow but I felt really bad about giving you guys such a short chapter so I thought I'd post this one ahead of schedule. Thanks so much for reviewing this guys! I love receiving feedback, it helps me out a lot just like other authors (cause face it, there is NO way in hell I'd ever let my parents see one of my usuk fics O_o I'd die an agonizing slow and painful death) **

**I've noticed a lot of you like reading about depressed America, you people are so strange! Lol jk I can't be saying anything cause I'm the one making America depressed here. I have to say there is a certain attraction to reading about him depressed cause we don't see it in his character but we all know it could happen. Alright I'm done rambling for now. Behold the next chapter!**

Chapter 4

(England)

He had to admit, he was a bit worried as he made his way through America's busy streets. Matthew had really scared England back after the meeting had ended. The look in his eyes had given him a very bad feeling. He hoped nothing was wrong with America. After all, it had been his job once to take care of him. Some of that instinct had never completely left.

England came around a bend and saw Matthew standing on the sidewalk, no polar bear with him this time. England walked up to him and he saw Matthew's eyes light up worriedly when he saw him. "Come on," he said quickly, walking with England towards America's house.

"You're really worried aren't you?" he asked. Matthew didn't answer, didn't have to. His actions spoke for him. They walked up to America's house and Matthew easily let himself in. America almost never locked his doors. They heard noises from the living room. _See, nothing to worry about. America's just playing mindless games like normal_, England thought to himself. However, America wasn't in there, just Tony. England locked eyes with Tony and a glaring match ensued. He really didn't like him and wished America would just get rid of him. "Um, Tony where is Alfred?" Matthew asked, ignoring the staring match. Tony looked over at Matthew.

"Fuck you," he said simply and then returned to the game. Matthew sighed while England fumed. Oh, yes how could he forget the thing's ridiculous potty mouth? "Come on," Matthew said to him, gliding out of the room. "Al's got to be around here somewhere. His car is still in the driveway."

Together they searched the house for any sign of the stupid American. At last they came to the door that led to his basement. "Why'd he be down here?" England asked aloud to no one in particular. "If I remember right, all that's down there is his wine cellar…" he trailed off when he saw the look of sheer panic in the other nation's eyes.

"Oh dear maple, please don't tell me you broke your promise," Matthew breathed in horror before disappearing into the basement. England followed the path the other nation had taken down the stairs, his fists clenching slightly. _What is this? Am I actually nervous?_

When he came down he suddenly stopped where he stood, too stunned to move. America was collapsed on an old arm chair, a TV in front of him dully replaying the news. His eyes were red and puffy from crying so much. However, that's not what made England suddenly stop.

There were bottles scattered across the ground by America's feet. Everyone knew that America liked to have a drink or two, but this went way beyond that. Some lay in shatters by the wall, dark stains indicating where America had thrown the bottles. It reminded England of himself right before America had declared his independence. His brother was shaking him roughly, trying to get him to wake up. England walked over to the brothers as if he were stepping on egg shells. "Matthew is he…"

"He's fine," Matthew interjected. England felt his hands unclench a little at the news. "But… oh maple if he wakes up and sees you here…"

"Don't worry about me," he told him. "If people can put up with me when I'm drunk then I'm sure America will be ten times easier." Matthew shook his head quickly.

"No you don't understand, when Al gets like this he's-"

"Mattie?" Both men looked down to see America opening his eyes. "What're you doin' here?" he asked. England was stunned. He'd never heard America talk with such a heavy southern drawl before. "Oh I just came over to check on you is all!" he replied back happily, moving slightly so he could block England from America's view. However, even in his stupor America was not a complete idiot. He moved his head slightly and he and England made eye contact. He watched America's face darken. "Oh well, hello there America-"

"Git the hell outa here," Alfred said, his eyes burning. England was slightly taken aback with the menace in the young nation's eyes.

"Do-don't worry about him Al," Matthew said, trying unsuccessfully to distract his brother. "The stupid bastard was just leaving," he said with a forced smile. England was stunned by Matthew.

"Excuse me," he sputtered, not seeing the pleading look in Matthew's eyes. "What the bloody hell was that for?" America flinched and the Brit's attention was brought back at once as he got up, Matthew desperately trying to hold his brother down. "Didn't cha hear me the first time? Get the fuck outta 'ere."

"America you're being ridiculous," the island nation replied.

"The only one 'ere being ridiculous is you," America replied, staggering closer to the Brit.

"England, just go!" Matthew yelled as loud as his tiny voice would allow. "You'll just make him angrier." England finally began to realize that the nation was right, but by then it was too late. Matthew just barely got him out of the way before America's fist came flying. Thankfully instead of connecting with the Brit's face, it connected with a metal beam next to the Brit, mangling a piece of it.

"Come on we have to go!" Matthew yelled as he dragged England back up the stairs, America coming after them mumbling incoherent curses at the both of them. England just managed to close the door behind them, keeping the two of them safe from America's rampage. Matthew locked the door with his spare key he'd stolen from America a while ago. They waited in apprehension as America tried to open the door, the doorknob jangling violently.

Then there was silence and England thought it was over. He slumped down against the door, his heart racing. Suddenly though a fist came flying through the door, mere inches from England. He jumped up in surprise, backing away from the door. Matthew though, sat down beside the hole. "Matthew wait what are you-"

"It's okay," he told him quietly. "I know how to handle him. Alfred?" he called out. There was nothing but silence. "It's okay Al, it's just me now. I kicked the Brit out." There was more silence and then they heard a hitched breath and a muffled cry.

"It hurts. They're all hurting. They're hurting me Mattie," he mumbled from the other side of the door.

"I know," he said simply.

"I can still hear them. All of them" England saw the Canadian nation flinch.

"Which ones are they this time?" he asked. England shot Canada a look. Had this really happened before? The quiet nation shook his head slightly at England and so he refrained from asking any questions, for now. "The Union." England was mystified. Matthew nodded to himself though as if it was a perfectly reasonable response.

"Are the Confederates there again too?" he asked.

"… Yeah."

"Which… which side is winning," the brother asked warily. England was beyond confused. Union and Confederates? Are they talking about the American Civil War? There was no sound from America. Matthew looked concerned. "Al, which side is winning?" he asked a little more forcefully. "This… this is an order!"

"… Is the war over yet?"

England felt his heart breaking a little at the words. There was so much sorrow in those five small words. "Yes, Al…" he said with a sigh of relief though a tear slid down his cheek.

"The war is over."

**And that wraps up this chapter! Don't worry, any confusion about the confederates and union will be answered in the next chapter cause I'm sure you're all as confused as our dear England.**

**The next chapter will hopefully be up in the next few days so I'll see you all then!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Alright guys I back with the next chapter! I feel pretty happy about updating regularly, I'm sure you all feel the same way.**

**I may or may not be crying from the amount of followers/reviews you guys are amazingly awesome!**

**Without further adieu... **

Chapter 5

(England)

They waited patiently by the door as sleep eventually took America. Once they could hear the even breaths coming from the other side of the door, they both breathed a sigh of relief. Carefully Matthew opened the door, revealing a sleeping America slumped against the wall, his eyes puffy and red. England watched as the nation carefully picked up the sleeping American bridal style (he's stronger than he looks, eh?) and carried him upstairs, depositing him gently on the bed.

England followed, standing awkwardly by the door as the other nation skillfully took off his brother's beloved jacket and hung it by the bed. As Matthew did that, England began to notice something.

"Um Matthew, why are there bandages around America's wrists?" He froze, the small curl of hair that bounced off his head seeming to crinkle. He rushed back to his brother's side and carefully felt his wrists. He didn't even have to push America's sleeves up to know. "I can't believe it… I didn't think it had started again…"

"What are you talking about?" England asked curiously. He knew that the other nation knew a lot more about what was happening then he was letting on. England wanted some answers. Matthew looked up and saw the determined look in the Brit's face. He sighed.

"Come on. Alfred needs his rest," he whispered quietly and glided out, carefully closing the door behind him. England followed him downstairs to the living room. Tony had since left, though to where England had no idea. Matthew sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh, drawing his knees up to his chest. England sat down opposite him, crossing his legs and waiting. "As you've probably guessed, this isn't the first time Al's been like this," he finally said quietly.

"What happened to him Matthew? I've never seen him like that."

"That's because none of you have ever really seen him," he retorted angrily. England looked at him in surprise. Matthew rarely got angry at any of the nations, or at least if he did he kept his opinions to himself.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't very nice," he apologized. "But it's true. All you guys ever see is Alfred smiling and leave it at that. None of you have really taken the time _to look _at him." England blushed a little in embarrassment. "Al's a big country, and he has a lot of people in him that he can hear. Of course, all nations are like that, we can hear the voice of our people. However, it's always affected him differently. They aren't just the people he represented, they are his_ people_, his _children_. All he's ever wanted to do is protect them. That's why he's always been a big figure in any war that involves his country. He wants to do all he can to protect them."

England nodded. That must have been why America had clashed so much with the older nation when he'd declared his independence, going off about how his people needed him. It hadn't made much sense to England back then, but Matthew's words were helping fix that. He watched Matthew sigh, the nation's violet eyes darkening. "However, he can't protect all of them. Especially when they go off killing each other."

"What do you mean?" England asked, lost once again.

"Everything Al does is for his people, but he can't do anything when his own people start killing each other. The wars may be mostly over, but his people are still in pain. A new tragedy popping up every week practically. There's not much Al can do about it, he'd never raise his hand to one of his own people, and all he can do is wait for his boss to make the necessary adjustments, which doesn't always happen. I think he blames himself for almost every death. It haunts him to think about all the death that's been caused in his name."

"It must drive him mad," England commented. The other nation nodded. "But how did the drinking start? What about the whole Confederate and Union thing?" Matthew sighed.

"The drinking really started after the Civil War. Alfred, being Alfred, was sent to the front lines of the Union army. He'd wanted to try and make a difference, to try and stop the fighting before it got really bad. However, all it did was cover his hands with the blood of his own people, and I think that changed him."

England shuddered at the thought of having to kill his own people. Sure, he'd had his own civil war but he had never participated in it directly. "Wait but I thought you just said he wouldn't hurt his own people," England argued.

"Even Al can't overturn a direct order from his boss," he replied quietly. "He could hear the voices of both sides, the Confederates and the Union. They were so loud, they drove him insane. Sometimes he'd forget which side he was on. When he's drunk like that I think the voices from his past come back. Most of the time it's from the Civil War, but not always so that's why I asked. I needed to know his state of mind."

"How did you get him to calm down?" England asked curiously, remembering what the other nation had said to calm America's rage. Matthew looked surprised. "Oh, that? Well when Al's mind gets all fuzzy like that, I don't think he knows where he is just that he's in the middle of a war. He seems to relive different wars from his past." Matthew lowered his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder how long his war has been going on," he murmured.

England averted his eyes. "When he asks if the fighting is over I just tell him it's over to help him get back to reality." England nodded, committing what Matthew said to heart. He may be in a similar situation in the near future where Matthew's not there to stop America.

"And… the drinking?" England asked hesitantly. Matthew was the one who averted his eyes now.

"He needed an outlet. He started drinking after… well you know." England's eyes froze. He felt a horrifying thought come to light. _Did I start all this?_

"It was after the Civil War that he really started drinking the heavy stuff, the moon shine mostly," Matthew added quickly, ignoring the other country's spaced out look. "Then… that came along." England snapped back to attention.

"I only caught it once," he told him in a bare whisper. "It was just one arm at the time. I made such a fuss that he swore he'd stop right then and there." He looked down sadly. "I guess it was naïve of me to think he'd just stop like that." England looked at the nation and could see all the hurt inside him. He couldn't stand to see America like this either, but the Brit recognized that Matthew had had it much worse.

"Well there's not much we can do about it now," The Brit said. "As much as I hate it, I guess we'll just have to stick around and make that git stop permanently." Matthew looked up at him, his tearful eyes full of hope.

"Thank you England. I… I don't think I could do it on my own…"

**So now England's finally been caught up to speed! Sorry that there wasn't a whole lot of action, America was barely there, but all of this needed to be explained. So now you all know what America's doing to himself... our do you? Mwaha I'm not going to give any hints but nothing is as it seems.**

**Don't worry we'll be getting back to our adorable American in the next chapter and there he'll stay basically until the end of Idiot Hero!**

**As always I want to hear your guys' opinion!**

**See you lovelies later ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Bam next chapter! Sorry it's so short, it's probably one of the shortest I've ever written which is probably why I'm trying to make up for it by rambling idiotically in this a/n who knows? Too bad I'm really bad at rambling cause there's nothing for me to really ramble about right now, sigh. Well at least I tried right? You've probably already skipped over this thing anyways and started reading so I'll leave you to it.**

Chapter 6

(America)

His head was totally killing him when he woke up. America glared at the alarm clock, seeing that it was ten-thirty. Man, he'd really slept in today. That was good though. It meant there were less hours in the day where he'd have to put that stupid smile on his face for everyone to laugh at.

As he pushed himself into a sitting position he realized that something was off. His memories of last night were fuzzy at best, but America definitely didn't remember making it up to his bedroom before passing out drunk. His bomber jacket was hanging neatly next to his bed, also something he didn't remember doing. From downstairs he could smell pancakes. Was Mattie here?

He looked down in alarm at his bandaged wrists. Had he seen him like this? Quickly, ignoring the killer hang-over he was experiencing (maybe he should have cut it off at the seventh bottle but oh well) he slipped his jacket on and made his way downstairs.

Immediately he saw Mattie flipping pancakes, breakfast already set out on the table. Great, first thing in the morning and America was already entertaining guests. Just fan-_freakin_-tastic.

"Hey Mattie what's up?" he asked with forced cheer as he came into the kitchen. Mattie looked up and smiled.

"Oh good, you're awake. I got tired of waiting so I made some pancakes. Do you want some? I'm sure you're hungry." Was it just him or was there something else implied in that last statement? "Maybe a bit later man, I'm not that hungry right now."

He saw Mattie's eyes narrow slightly but then he just smiled and turned back to his pancakes. America threw himself down on the couch, irritated. There was a sudden noise on the back porch and then the door sliding and closing. He looked up just enough to see… England? What the fuck was that guy doing over at his place? Shouldn't he be at his hotel room right now? America had no energy to deal with the Brit today.

He noticed that he looked quite pleased with himself and then he noticed him on the couch. "Ah, America. Glad to see you're finally awake."

"What were you doing out back?" he asked suspiciously, not in the mood for useless pleasantries.

"Well now that you asked, I just threw out the last of the alcohol in your wine cellar," he said in a very matter-of-fact voice. America's eyes narrowed in fury.

"You did _what_?" He asked through clenched teeth.

"Yes well, your brother and I have decided that you make a very angry drunk, so we're cutting you off." America flew to his feet, stomping back into the kitchen. He glared at his brother. Does this mean that they know? "Ah, yes and we won't be having any more of that," England said, pointing to his wrists. He felt his cheeks warm as he pulled the sleeves of the jacket down firmer.

"Get out." He said flatly, dropping his happy act. The Brit ignored him though and sat down at one of the kitchen chairs, crossing one leg over another. "Are you deaf? I said get the hell out of my house!"

"Or you'll what?" England asked sarcastically. Mattie came over to his side with fresh-baked pancakes on a plate.

"Please Al. He just wants to help," he pleaded. America narrowed his eyes at his brother. Help? What has he ever done to help America? He was the one always helping _him_! He sighed tiredly. Maybe there was another way to get him to leave. "What do you want?" he asked tiredly.

"Excuse me?" England said, startled by the drop in hostility in his voice. America couldn't make himself be angry with anyone. He was simply too tired and his head hurt way too much. "You know, money, weapons, information. What do you want from me?" The Brit looked stunned.

"I don't want anything," he replied.

"Bullshit. Everyone always wants something from me, that's the only reason why they come here. So what is it? What will make you leave me alone faster?" England looked angry.

"Contrary to what you believe, I don't want anything," he spat. "You're stuck with me whether you like it or not."

"Ugh, I'm not dealing with this shit. I'm going back to bed. You two can show yourselves out the damn door," America said angrily and stomped back upstairs, slamming the door shut loudly enough for everyone to hear. He sighed as he threw himself back on his bed. Perhaps if he ignored them long enough they'd take a hint and leave him to wallow in his own misery.

There was also the matter of restocking his wine cellar that he'd need to carefully think over, considering he hadn't gone a day without at least one drink in about two centuries.

…

(England)

"Well that certainly could have gone better," the Englishman said with a sigh. "I'm surprised he didn't try to physically throw us out the door."

Matthew gave a small smile as he poured maple syrup on his pancakes. "Even if Al hates us, he'd still never do something like that. At least not while he's sober," the younger nation replied.

"Don't you think we should keep an eye on him though?" England asked. "What if he tries cutting himself?"

"It's quite possible that he might now that the liquor is gone," Matthew conceded. "But as long as his people are happy for the moment I don't think he'll try anything. It's when something terrible happens here that we really need to worry about that." England sighed.

"You are remarkably calm about all of this," he said, irritated. "How can you be so sure?"

"Simple. I know America." England glanced at the nation in surprise. "Even if he's like this, he's still my brother," Matthew told him, a distant look in his eyes. "I know that he can get past this if we just put our faith in him."

England couldn't help smiling at the nation's unwavering faith in his brother. As for himself, he was still deeply worried about America. If he had indeed been the one who started all this… well then he'd have to be the one to end it.

After all, what kind of gentleman would he be?

**Did ya catch the Black Butler reference at the end there? ;)**

**I was (slightly) obsessing over the series when I was writing this story so there are a few more scattered throughout**

**I swear the next chapter is longer, I think anyways. I hate writing short chapters cause I know as a reader that I hate reading short chapters so normally that transfers over to my writing.**

**Until next time!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Alright guys the next chapter is here and it's a little longer than the last one thank god! Thank you guys so much for reviewing it seriously makes my day! **

**I'm glad some of you liked me putting in Mattie's point of view, I just think that in a lot of these types of stories he kinda gets put off to the side and his opinion isn't really stated so I wanted to change that though he will be taking a bit of a back seat now after the next chapter for a little bit. **

**Since the next chapter is kinda like part 2 of this chapter I'll be putting it up sometime tomorrow for you guys.**

**Alright I'm done, please enjoy!**

Chapter 7

(America)

He woke up with a start, tears streaming down his face. He glanced out the open window and saw the moon shining through thick clouds. It seems he'd slept the whole day away to be woken up by a nightmare. But then, if he was awake, then why was he still in the nightmare?

America jumped as he heard the phantom noises of bombs going off near him. He fell out of his bed and crawled into the corner of his room, pressing his head to his knees and using his arms to cover his head as more bombs exploded around him and gun-fire rattled around him. He could hear it all, the voices of the dead screaming out their last seconds of agony in his head.

"Why?" he whimper. "Why can't you just leave me alone? Just _leave me alone_!"

"America!" There was a burst of light as the bedroom door opened and closed quickly.

He caught a quick glimpse of England standing in the doorway, a halo of light surrounding him before America's world was plunged back into darkness. He could hear England come closer and then a gentle set of hands rested on his arms. America flinched at the contact, his knees pulling tighter to his chest in an attempt to make himself as small as possible.

"… America…" the Brit's voice sounded hurt. America couldn't help smiling darkly. Serves him right, serves them all right. How could they move on with their lives after all that had happened to them, after all that had happened to their _people_? Why weren't they affected like he was? How could they move past all the gore and blood that haunted his every waking moment? _It's not fair._

America flinched again, this time to the sounds of enemy artillery, all thoughts of the other nations driven from his head as a small cry escaped his clenched teeth. England sighed and then to America's surprise he felt England sit down next to him.

He put an arm around his shoulders tentatively; ready to pull back at a moment's notice. America forgot about the presence of the arm though as planes flew above his head, dropping mustard gas down from the sky, the sounds of his men screaming and choking filling his ears. Vaguely he heard the Brit talking to him, trying to soothe him, and in some aspect it seemed to work.

"Don't worry America, everything is just fine. The… the war is over," he said cautiously. America felt his eyelids drooping, the noise fading slightly.

"… is it over? Is it really over?" he asked in a bare whisper. He still didn't know the answer. He didn't hear the other nations reply before sleep over-took him.

…

When he woke up, he could feel the warmth of the sun on his face. He sighed, his eyes still closed. For once he couldn't hear any of the voices in his head. He felt so… so peaceful.

He took a deep breath and nuzzled his pillow. The pillow felt firmer than before, but no less uncomfortable. He was just drifting back off to sleep when he felt the pillow take a deep breath and something soft nuzzle his head. Stunned into alertness, America's eyes snapped open, immediately narrowing as the incoming sunlight partially blinded him. When his eyes readjusted, America realized that he was sleeping up against the wall with someone.

Carefully glancing up, America saw the upper crook of England's sleeping face staring back. He felt his cheeks redden as he realized the position the two were sleeping in. America's head had fallen on England's shoulder and England was using America's head as a makeshift pillow. Completely red in the face, he got up as quickly as he could without disturbing the Brit's sleep.

Walking into the bathroom connected to his room, America looked at himself in the mirror and immediately noticed his wrists. America scowled. They were all bloody again. He must have ripped off the bandages in his sleep again and scratched at the skin until it bled.

He sighed and went into the medicine cabinet for fresh bandages. He'd never told Mattie the origins of the tortured scars that ravaged America's wrists. It wasn't cutting, it was more like… a primal instinct, his body itching to release the pain and despair he felt when he was trapped in his memories. He was hardly ever aware of the action until he woke from his dreams soaked in blood.

When he came back into his room, England was gone. America scowled, his cheeks pink. Whatever, it's not like he still expected him to still be there asleep. He stomped down the stairs to see if he could find the old geezer and ask him what the hell he was still doing in his house.

America paused in the hallway outside of the kitchen, sniffing the air. Ick, it smelt like something was burning.

Walking into the kitchen America frowned angrily at England, who had changed his clothes and was currently making god knows what on America's stove. America had come down in his tee-shirt, not bothering to hide the bandages on both arms. He might as well fuck around with England a little. If he was going to ruin America's life even more it was only fitting that America try and make him just as miserable.

"Ah, good morning America," England said cheerily, his cheeks slightly pink. His smile faltered a little when he saw the wrists though.

"What the hell are you still doing here," America asked flatly, his mood foul. "And what the fuck are you doing to my stove?"

"I'm making us breakfast," England said, ignoring his questions. "Your brother is still sleeping upstairs so I thought I'd get breakfast started with some scones."

"Oh god not those awful things. If you wanted to poison us, you should have just told us outright."

"Hey, stop making fun of my cooking. I'll have you know, you used to love my scones!"

"Yeah, before I actually had a chance to try some real food," America retorted back, sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands. England made an irritated noise in the back of his throat before turning back to what he called food. "Why the hell are you still here anyways?" he asked, repeating his earlier question. "I don't need any of your help."

"Then what was last night?" England asked with his back turned. America averted his eyes, his cheeks turning pink.

"None of your damn business," he retorted sullenly.

"Would you like to talk about it?" America remained silent. "It was World War I this time, wasn't it?" America took in a sharp breath, his eyes widening. How… how did he know? America barely even knew what time period he was in sometimes.

"Yeah, and what if it was?" he asked, feigning disinterest but secretly holding his breath.

"Hm, I thought as much. I knew a lot of men who looked just like that. The doctors called it shell-shock."

"So, who the hell cares?"

"It's okay to admit it you know. The sooner you admit it, the sooner you can get better."

"I'm the hero remember," he grumbled. _No you're not_, some voice whispered in the back of his mind. "Hero's don't get shell-shock or whatever." _If you were a hero then you'd actually save people instead of killing them_. America felt his stomach clench. He stood up from the kitchen table. "I'm going back to my room," he said tiredly.

"Stay, breakfast will be ready in just a moment," England implored. America shook his head.

"I'm not hungry." And that was the truth. In fact America was feeling fairly nauseous at the moment. His hand vaguely rubbed his gut as he went back into his room.

He lay in bed, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. He heard a phantom bomb go off to his right and shuddered. _You're not a hero, you're a damn coward. _America bit his lower lip to keep back the tears. He knew the voice was right. For all his boasting he'd failed at being a hero. He didn't save people, all he did was ruin lives. _I've ruined countless lives. I'm such a hypocrite._

America's thoughts drifted back to the conversation he'd had with England. His mouth hardened into a thin line.

He refused to believe he had shell-shock.

**So now you all know what's _really_ going on with Al's wrists. At first I was going to have him cutting like you normally see, but it just didn't fit Alfred's personality in my mind. I feel like he wouldn't really be conscious of what he's doing, his body just subconsciously does it to show how he's tearing himself apart on the inside. IDK if I explained that correctly but at least that's my headcannon theory.**

**Also I think Al's too stubborn to ever admit that what's going on with him is actually treatable. When the term shell-shock was first created, Europe accepted the condition and tried to treat their men accordingly which is why England was comfortable with bringing the subject up while America kinda just brushed it off and didn't do much to deal with it. Even now with PTSD which is basically what's wrong with Alfred, is a touchy subject in the states and not everyone wants to recognize it.**

**Did you guys like the little bit of fluff I threw in there? I just couldn't help it, it was begging to be written **

**Get ready to say goodbye to our favorite Canadian for a little bit next chapter **

**I think that was the longest a/n I've ever written, wow.**

**Until next time! (I think this is just going to become my ending catchphrase I say it too often ;) )**


	8. Chapter 8

**As promised here is the next chapter! I really need to find a more creative way to say this but thank you guys so much for all the reviews and follows and all that shit. Like, just gah, I don't know what to say. It makes me very happy to say the least!**

**Sorry this is another shorty (winces) I wanted to try and add more but I just couldn't seem to fit anything else in that would stick with the plot. **

**Hopefully my mostly regular updates make up for it!**

Chapter 8

(England)

The Englishman sighed as the American disappeared back upstairs. Huh, and just when he had nearly finished breakfast.

England sat down in the seat America had previous sat in and sighed again before sipping his tea. Seeing America like that with the bandages had made his heart stop for a moment. They seemed fresh too, which worried the nation greatly. And then there had been last night.

He didn't think he'd ever seen the younger nation so scared and vulnerable. The sight had broken his heart a little. Then of course there had been this morning. England felt his cheeks warm.

The Brit's thoughts were interrupted as Matthew walked down, still in his pajamas, his eyes sleepy. "Good morning Matthew," England said. "There are a few scones here if you'd like."

The nation stopped, internally debating whether to make his pancakes or be nice to England and humor him by eating one of his… scones. In the end the sleepy nation sighed sadly and went over to sit across from England, accepting one of his scones. "Has Alfred been down yet?" Matthew asked as he took a bite of the scone, his face turning a light shade of green. England sighed, oblivious to the other country as he ate a piece of his own scone.

"He was down here earlier, but he refused to eat anything and just went back upstairs. He had a nightmare last night."

"Really? I'm surprised I didn't hear him," Matthew replied. England shook his head.

"It's quite all right. I took care of it." The two nations remained quiet as they continued eating, Matthew turning progressively greener. Finally, England took note of the other country. "Hey, Matthew are you okay?"

"Uh… I don't think so. I think I'll head over to France's hotel room until I feel better."

"What don't be ridiculous. I can fix you up a nice meal to make you feel better than Francis can." Matthew shook his head quickly.

"No, no someone needs to look after Alfred," he told him. "Francis can look after me just fine while you take care of Alfred." England looked unsure.

"Well, if you're absolutely sure…" England said.

"Yes I'm sure," Matthew assured him.

…

England sighed, looking at the closed door to America's bedroom. Matthew had since left for France's hotel room, leaving England to deal with America. Just what was he supposed to do with him though? He couldn't just let the younger nation sulk in his bed all day. No, he needed to get out and enjoy the fresh air.

He knocked softly before opening the door. He noticed the door to America's bathroom was open and a not so pleasant smell was drifting out. _Has he been getting sick all day?_ he wondered briefly before returning his attention to America.

"Hey America I was thinking we could go outside and get some fresh air. It's quite a lovely day out."

A stubborn, "No." came from the mound of sheets on the bed. England sighed.

"Oh come on, isn't it your job to show your guests around?" he asked.

"Fuck off."

"Fine then, I'll just go and make some more scones then for when you get hungry," the island nation taunted as he closed the door and walked downstairs. He sat down at the table and waited.

He smiled to himself when he heard noises from up above and one very pissed off American come stomping down the stairs, dressed for the day. England rose to greet him, trying to ignore the dead look in his eyes. It was like he'd become a completely different person. Like he'd given up on life.

"Come on," America said dully. "Before you burn the whole goddamn house down."

…

Even though America came out with England as he'd asked, the nation was by no means being cooperative.

England literally had to hold the other nation's hand (making both their faces turn pink) and drag him up and down the streets, trying to make conversation. America wouldn't have any of it though and wouldn't reply unless they could be sarcastic, one-word answers. America's eyes drifted, his mind sometimes with them and sometimes elsewhere.

Suddenly England stopped, causing America to nearly run into him. "Come on," he said suddenly. "Let's go get something to eat."

They stopped at a small café on a street corner. England looked at the busy streets from their outside table, America busy staring at the ground. A cheery barista came up to them asking them what they wanted. England asked for some tea and a scone. America just asked for a coffee.

"Really now, are you just going to sit there all day and pretend I'm not here?" England joked after the girl had left.

"I don't know, is it working?" America retorted sarcastically, shaky hands gripping his legs to hide it from England.

"Ah finally he speaks," England replied, ignoring the sarcasm. "Oh come now America," he said more seriously. "Here you are pouting about your existence and forgetting just where you are," he said as the barista reappeared with their orders.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, not even glancing at his coffee. England took a sip of his tea and took a deep breath.

"Just look around you, you git. We are sitting in the heart of your country, surrounded by all the buzzings of normal, happy human lives. Can you honestly not feel them at all inside you?" America narrowed his eyes at the Brit and refused to answer. "If you simply focus on the past, then your future can never move forward. It's as simple as that."

"Is it really that easy for all you nations?" England looked at him, surprised. He could see America's jaw clenched. He noticed the nation was shaking slightly.

"Is it really that easy for you all to move on and forget what happened, what your people have done in your name?" America's hands balled into fists. "Can you honestly say that you have no regrets?" he asked angrily, shocking the other nation into silence. "I thought as much," he concluded dryly as he stood up, dropping a twenty on the table beside his untouched coffee.

"There, that should cover the lunch. I'm going back home."

**Alright that's it for this chapter. Wah, there's no more Mattie for a bunch of chapters now :(**

**Wow. Poor Iggy. Alfred was pretty harsh there, but can you blame him really? **

**Pay attention to what's going on with Al, those details are important and will be exploited in the next chapter though I'm sure you all already know where he's heading, and it certainly isn't home (wink, wink nudge, nudge)**

**Alright well that's it for me today, I'll see you guys later!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Alright guys, this is the big chapter, basically the climax of America's story.**

**I'm gonna do a warning here cause there is a fair bit of blood in this chapter compared to the others up to this point and the subject matter at the bottom is definitely sensitive stuff (at least here in the US) so I wanted to make sure this was up before any of you read. I am sorry if it upsets any of you and I apologize in advance.**

**Anyways now that _that_ depressing thing is over with can I just give all of you hugs? Or chocolate? Or both? Cause seriously you guys are awesome (I feel like I'm repeating myself every chapter but I feel like it needs to be said!)**

**I'm gonna take a brief moment to answer reviews so if you want you can skip but there is a snippet of info pertaining to Italy just to let ya know.**

**rednightmares - I'm sorry I made you cry :( If it helps I cried a bunch when I was writing this. I hate putting Al in so much pain but not nearly as much as I do for what I'm doing to Feli. So I apologize in advance if I make you (or anyone else) cry.**

**cherryfeather101 - I already sent you a reply but I'm just gonna kinda reiterate it on here for anyone else with a similar question. Italy IS a part of the story, but also not. Confused? He and America technically have two separate stories that happen in the same universe so I smashed them together as one big story. And trust me, he is not a happy camper. You'll understand when he's introduced ;)**

**Alright I'm done for now so enjoy the chapter :)**

Chapter 8

(America)

He wanted to punch England in the face.

He wanted to punch all the nations in the face.

How could they all be so nonchalant about their pasts, do they just forget about all the blood on their hands? America shook his head. He just couldn't do it, he wouldn't. He wouldn't forget all those men he'd fought with and against. Even if it haunted him for the rest of his life, he couldn't forget all the blood spilt in his name.

He shuddered at the staggering numbers, his stomach feeling queasy._ You can't see it can you? You're cover in blood. You're drowning in it and nobody will be there to save you._

He reached home and immediately went towards the basement door for some liquor only to remember that England threw it all out. He groaned as he went back out and drove to the nearest liquor store, his hands tightly gripping the wheel to try and erase the shakiness.

He hated how he felt when the withdrawal symptoms kicked in. He'd been without a drink for only two days and his body was already in shambles. His stomach had turned into his worst nightmare earlier in the morning and his head was absolutely killing him right now. The only way to make it better was to get another drink.

When he got in he realized he didn't have a lot of money on him so he ended up buying a six pack and a bottle of vodka. He waited until he got home to drink, not wanting to get vodka all over his car. He stashed the six pack away in the wine cellar, confident that England wouldn't be heading down there any time soon since he thought all the beer was gone.

However, just to be on the safe side he tucked it to the side where it was mostly hidden from view.

He didn't do the same with the vodka. Instead he downed the whole thing, even Russia would have been impressed with how fast he guzzled down the tall bottle. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the shakiness in his hands fading as the alcohol coursed through his veins. It wasn't nearly as much as he wanted to drink, but it'd have to do for now.

He stumbled into the kitchen, throwing the empty bottle in the sink before somehow making his way upstairs, crawling into bed and passing out from the sheer exhaustion of having to walk around with England.

…

_"__No get out of the way!" America cried out as another man took a bullet for him. He turned his head and smiled at him, blood dribbling down his chin. _

_"I'm glad sir, that I could protect my country till the end," he whispered before his eyes dulled and he fell forward, hitting the mud with a disgusting splash. America felt more tears run down his face as he yanked at his hair. "Stop trying to protect me! I can't die, but you can! Get out of here!" he screamed._

_ "__Come on men. Protect our nation at all costs!" America wanted to puke as he heard rallying cries around him. Stop saying that. _

_Stop using his name as an excuse to kill each other. Please, stop fighting. Please stop dying. America looked down at the rifle at his knees, the bayonet dripping with blood. "Please stop," he whispered to himself as the cries of war surrounded him and echoed in his mind. His fingers wove through his matted hair, digging deep into his skull as if they could reach those horrible voices and crush them._

_"Please stop… screaming."_

"Bloody hell stop thrashing around. America, wake up!" America's eyes flew open and were startled to see England sitting on top of him, pinning him down. "What the hell?" America asked, still only half-awake, the other half still reeling from the memory-dream thing. England sighed in relief.

"Thank god you finally woke up," he said. They continued to look at each other, the atmosphere growing uncomfortable as they realized the positions they were in. "Um… England can you get off of me," America asked his cheeks slightly pink.

"Wha… oh right, sorry about that," England said quickly as he scrambled off the bed, his cheeks blazing. "You were flailing about like a mad man. I was trying to make sure you didn't hurt yourself." America quickly glanced at his wrists. The bandages were still on. "

Um, thanks I guess," he said hesitantly. "You can go back to bed now." The Brit looked surprised.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stick around?" he asked uncertainly. The American shook his head.

"No, I think I'll be okay." England still looked unsure but then shrugged.

"Well alright then, goodnight America." America had been just about to close his eyes, hearing the door opening. "You know, I do have regrets," England said quietly from across the room. America stared hard at the ceiling, not daring to say a word. "Just in case you were wondering."

America didn't come out of his room at all the next day, and wouldn't listen to anything England said through the locked door. The only reason he got out of bed was to stumble into the bathroom and puke up last night's vodka.

He was sure England had found the bottle, but he hadn't said a word. He lay awake staring at the ceiling, his mind seething. He was angry at himself for being so affected by the stupid Brit. For decades, America had resigned himself to his misery, dealing with it as best he could and hating everyone else for their apparent happiness.

He created a system so he could appear attentive at world meetings before heading off home and getting wasted. And it was great because no one cared.

Now though, everything was falling apart. He thought it was just a part of himself that he was never going to get over, and he had been okay with that. He'd accepted that he was worthless, that he'd never be the hero he always boasted about.

But then that stupid Brit had to come barging into his life, spouting all this crap and looking at the American like that…

He scowled at the ceiling, his face red. "America?" England asked gently from the other side of the door. "America you've spent most of the day in there, aren't you ever going to come out. Aren't you even hungry? You haven't eaten anything in three days." America remained quiet but surprising the both of them, his stomach growled loudly. America groaned, imagining the Brit's knowing smile. "I thought so. I'll go out and get you a hamburger okay?"

"I'm not hungry," he protested weakly. He could hear England chuckle as he rose to his feet.

"I'm sure you're not," he replied lightly and then America heard him going down the stairs.

…

(England)

England found himself humming quietly as he made his way down the street.

He hadn't realized how much he had missed America's piggish eating habits until that moment. To hear his stomach loudly growling from inside that room, it felt like everything was beginning to right itself again.

Of course there was the matter of the empty vodka bottle he'd found broken in half in the kitchen sink when he'd gotten back, but that was a conversation for another time.

He decided that he was going to get America a real hamburger, not one of those fake ones from McDonalds that he always ate. It would take a bit longer than usual, but England had a place in mind that he knew made fantastic burgers.

He looked up in surprise when he felt a rain drop fall of his head. Dark storm clouds were moving in fast from the east. The incoming storm didn't affect the Brit's mission though. America needed this food, so he was going to go out and get it, no matter what weather he had to walk through.

A few minutes earlier…

America groaned. Great, the stupid limey was even making him hungry again. America sighed and sat up on his bed.

He didn't quite buy what England was telling him… that maybe he could move past the darkness shrouded around him. Every other country seemed to have done it, so why couldn't he? Why did he have to carry this burden on his shoulders?

Why was he the only worthless country?

As he sat and thought he felt something hit him like a brick. He hunched over, coughing hard. When he opened his eyes he saw blood in his hands. He felt his body begin to shake violently.

No, not now. His nation had been doing so well these past few days. He coughed hard again and fell off the bed and onto his hands and knees, coughing up more blood onto the carpet. His wrists burned and he shakily tore off the bandages, his vision blurred with tears as he scratched madly into the skin.

He could hear their laughter in his head turning into high-pitch screams.

Children? It was _children_ this time?

He let out a sob as he crumpled over onto the carpet, the coughed up blood mingling with the blood starting to flow from his wrists.

So many tiny screams pierced his head. His bloody hands pulled at his hair as he tried to protect himself from the noises, but it was impossible. He screamed along with the children as one by one, they were gunned down.

**Like I said up at the top, I am so sorry. I am referring to a specific event that happened a year or so ago but I didn't want to upset anyone who may have a connection to it (you never know who's reading this thing). **

**If any of you actually want to know the event then just email me and I'll tell you about it. There's only one other chapter that goes slightly into the details of the event but other than that I dropped it out of respect. I just needed something that we all know would destroy Al and this was the first thing that popped into my head.**

**I hope I didn't offend anyone. I know it's still a touchy subject here in the States.**

**Anyways, R&R? That might pull me out of my slight depression over this chapter?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Alright guys next chapter is up!**

**Huge thank you to you guys for reviewing this, like seriously it's awesome and makes me feel good about my writing. Sorry the last chapter made a lot of you guys cry though :(**

**To make it up to you guys our favorite Canadian is back and our perverted Frog is tagging along too! Sadly they won't stay for long before disappearing again but it's better than nothing!**

**You guys are the reason I keep writing this thing! so keep on reviewing I'm just gonna take a sec to answer some of your guys reviews/questions**

**supersonicninja1 - like I said last chapter you're gonna have to wait until part 2 of the story for Italy. He has a few lines down here in this chapter but other than that he isn't in America's story. Sorry!**

**Fruitstogether - no the event I'm referring to didn't happen during the summer. It happened two years ago back in the winter. If you want anything else just PM me!**

**I haven't done a disclaimer in a while so I'll do one now.*Ahem* I do not own Hetalia nor any of the characters. If I did I would be too busy crying and hugging them to bother writing this story ;)**

**And on with the show!**

Chapter 10

(Canada)

He sighed and let his eyes wander, his mind preoccupied. While England was off taking care of America, Canada had to make sure the rest of the world meetings scheduled for the week ran smoothly.

He'd said a few quick words to Germany regarding the two countries' absences, telling him that England was nursing a very sick America. None of the other countries had asked outright about the two countries absences besides Francis during the first meeting. Canada hadn't really told Francis all the details of what was going on with Alfred, though he did know about the first time.

He thought that England could handle his brother so he didn't want to worry him needlessly.

They were in the middle of the second of three meetings scheduled in America and Canada was having a hard time keeping track of the conversation.

"'ey Matthieu. Are you alright?" Canada looked over to his left to see France looking at him concerned.

"What, oh I'm fine Francis. Just a little tired."

"No need to lie to me, mon chéri. I 'eard that Amérique isn't feeling to 'ot right now." It took Canada a moment to remember the lie he had told Germany and then nodded to Francis. "Yeah, America really isn't feeling that well. I am a bit worried." Francis smiled.

"Do not worry. If I know 'im, Angleterre already has America back on 'is feet, oui?" Canada gave him a small smile.

"Yes, I'm sure you're right."

…

(Germany)

They were about half-way through the meeting and so far everything seemed to be going well.

Since England wasn't here, France didn't have anyone to bicker with and since America wasn't here the meeting wasn't constantly being interrupted by him. Germany sighed happily to himself as he listened to Switzerland talking. Hopefully the last meeting here will go smoothly as well. The only thing Germany wished for was the horrible storm to leave.

It had blown in suddenly a few minutes ago and he was worried that it was going to cause the power to go out. Above his head, the lights flickered uneasily as if to confirm his fears.

He looked around at the other countries and then suddenly heard, "HOLY MAPLE!"

He looked over and saw Canada gaping at his phone on the table, his eyes full of fear and confusion. He looked around him and realized that everyone was staring at him in shock. Some of the countries had never even heard the quiet nation speak before. Germany was shocked that the country's voice could go above a whisper.

The country quickly got up, glanced at his phone and then back at the rest of the nations. "I, um, I'm sorry about that," he stammered quickly, his body shaking like a leaf. "I'm sorry but I really have to go!"

With that he scooped up his phone and raced out the door, creating a wind that ruffled everyone's hair.

"Ve- what was that just now?" Italy asked from Germany's side. Germany shook his head.

"I don't know Italy." He had a bad feeling though. Everyone looked over at France, who had been sitting next to Canada a few seconds ago. Germany was about to ask him what was going on when France's phone went off.

"Oh, sorry about that," he said as he fished the phone out from his pocket and took a look at it. Everyone watched in shock as the nation's mouth formed a small circle as he looked at his phone. "Qu'est-ce que l'enfer! Est-ce que vous me baise plaisantez?" he shouted at it.

Then ignoring everyone he got up, muttering angrily to himself. "That fucking idiot! When I see that git I'm going to 'it him so 'ard he'll be thrown back into the seventeenth century!" he muttered angrily as he stormed out of the door. Everyone was silent as the lights flickered ominously above their heads.

"Did France just use American, and _English_ swears?" Spain asked, his eyes watching the door his friend had just gone through.

"Aw shit, something very un-awesome must have just happened," Prussia muttered to himself.

"Ve- Germany, do you know what just happened?" Italy asked again worriedly. Germany found himself shaking his head.

"No I don't, but I have a very bad feeling about this."

…

(England)

He hunched his shoulders, trying to protect the food and his face from the raging storm over his head. Everyone had since taken shelter as the storm had morphed into a giant. At this rate he'd be soaked through to his pants before he made it back to America's house.

The Brit sighed. That damn American better be grateful when he walked through those doors.

As he was getting close to America's house, his phone began to ring. Juggling the food, England managed to find some shelter from the pounding rain and answer the phone. "Hello?"

"Where the 'ell are you?" England sighed.

"Why yes, hello to you too frog," he retorted back dryly. "Look, I don't quite have time to be talking to you right now-"

"Just shut up and listen to me for once Angleterre," Francis yelled at him. England stopped talking, taken aback by the Frenchman's anger.

"What's wrong?" he asked cautiously.

"I thought Matthieu said that you were looking after Alfred," Francis said angrily. "If that's true then where are you?"

"I went to go pick us up some dinner," the Brit explained, trying to defend himself. "I'm nearly back. Why are you asking me all of this?" He could hear something like sirens in the background of the call. "What is all that noise by you?" he asked.

"It's the ambulance," Francis explained. "They're loading Amérique in now." It took a minute for his words to sink in.

"America's getting in… an ambulance?" England asked haltingly.

"Oui."

The food slipped out of England's hands and landed on the wet cement, already forgotten.

"Matthieu is getting in with him now. If you get 'ere fast enough then maybe you can 'op in with them." England was already running though, sprinting as fast as he could towards America's house. Already he could see the flashing lights coming from the ambulance.

How could he have let this happen? He hadn't been gone that long. He'd thought it would be okay!

He tore through the yard and ran up besides Francis, who was standing in the rain, looking at the ambulance sadly. For a moment England couldn't believe that the nation was letting his gorgeous, silky hair (his words not mine!) get soaked and his designer clothes ruined.

Francis held his hand out to stop England from going towards the ambulance, putting his phone in his pocket. England glanced angrily at him but the Frenchman simply shook his head at the island nation. Fuming, England looked back and tried to see inside the ambulance. Matthew was sitting inside it beside his brother, tears streaming down his face as he held his brother's hand tightly in his own.

Then there was America. England couldn't see too much but he caught a glimpse of bloody hands and puffy eyes before the doors closed and the ambulance sped away.

"Come on," Francis said tiredly. "We're meeting them at the hospital."

**So yeah, I went there. It was inevitable really.**

**France had some interesting things to say there back at the meeting! If you can't understand French for your life (like me) here is a translation of what he said**

**Qu'est-ce que l'enfer! Est-ce que vous me baise plaisantez? = What the hell! Are you fucking kidding me?**

**I'm sorry if it's wrong at all, I was using google translate cause I only know Spanish. Hope the image of France swearing like an Englishman while he ranted made you smile. I know I smiled at least.**

**Have a lovely day or night or whatever time of day it is at your place!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Dudes I can't believe we're at chapter 11! There aren't many more chapters left in Al's story before we're shifting to Feli!**

**I'm going to have to take a temporary hiatus starting on Friday and extending for the rest of the week cause I'm gonna be on vacation! Also I don't think I can get wifi in the middle of a redwood forest which is where I'm going to be spending most of the week ;)**

**If only trees could emit wifi magically then we probably could stop global warming and I could keep giving you guys chapters. Aw well. Maybe that should be America's next big idea at the WM**

**So I'll post this chapter and the next chapter tomorrow before I temporarily log off**

**You guys are too awesome for me to stay off for long though so maybe I'll sneak a chapter in here and there just ta keep ya hungry ;) who knows!**

**Thank you all so much for the reviews! I never imagined this story would get so popular so I am eternally grateful to you guys. Keep being awesome!**

**Just a quick warning, like I said a few chapters back I'd have one more chapter that goes a bit into detail about the event and then I'd basically drop it. This is that chapter. There's nothing bad, just one line basically but I just wanted this up here to let ya know in advance**

**Dudes I'm sorry for the shorty here, that's one of the reasons this a/n is so long (I'm trying to make up for it) it's really more of a transition and revelations chapter than anything but I hope you all enjoy it regardless!**

Chapter 11

(England)

He paced quickly back and forth in the waiting room, his eyes burning.

By the time he and Francis had gotten there, America was already in the Emergency room and no one was allowed to see him, not even his brother. "Angleterre just sit down would you?" France asked tiredly. "It's not going to 'elp anything."

"Bugger off," England muttered, not stopping.

"If not for my sake then for Matthieu's," Francis pleaded. This did cause England to stop and look at Matthew. The nation had been absolutely silent the entire time. He sat like a stone statue with his head was buried into his polar bear's soft fur. He couldn't even tell if the younger nation was still breathing.

Seeing Matthew like that brought the island nation back to his senses and with a groan of frustration he sat down, his whole body itching to be doing something, anything. Francis sighed in relief.

Eventually a doctor came over to them. This time even Matthew looked up. "You're Alfred Jones's brother aren't you?" the doctor asked, Matthew nodded. "You can come in and see him now if you want." He got up slowly and then looked back at England and Francis.

"What about them?" he asked quietly.

"I'm sorry, but only immediate family can see Mr. Jones right now."

"Oh, but they are immediately family," Matthew protested. The doctor shrugged.

"Well alright then," he conceded. England and Francis stood up and together they all followed the doctor.

"While he lost a lot of blood and his wounds are serious, I believe that he'll be just fine," the doctor told them. England sighed in relief. Some good news at last. Finally they came up to a closed door and the doctor stopped them.

"He is sleeping right now, but I'm sure he'll appreciate seeing all of you when he wakes up." Canada thanked him and then he and France quickly slipped inside. England was about to do the same when the doctor stopped him. "Excuse me Mr…."

"Kirkland," England said, using his human last name, as he looked at the doctor. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Well I didn't want to say this in front of his brother but I'm keeping him on suicide watch," the doctor said. England was shocked.

"Are you sure that's necessary? Alfred wouldn't have any access to anything he could use to hurt himself," England said. The doctor shook his head.

"Mr. Kirkland, Alfred Jones didn't use knives or anything to cause the wounds to his wrists." England was surprised.

"Well then, what did he use?" England asked.

"He used his own fingernails," the doctor said. England took a step back, his shocked mind trying to process what the doctor was telling him.

"So he… clawed at his wrists?" England said haltingly. The doctor nodded.

"It seems he scratched the skin hard enough to draw blood and then just kept going. I found several older wounds that had been beginning to heal themselves. I'm sorry, I thought you already knew."

"No, don't be," England said in a hollow voice. The doctor bowed his head and allowed England inside the room.

His eyes immediately went to America on the bed and he was shocked by his appearance. He was sleeping just as the doctor said. His hair was matted with blood, sticking up in all sorts of strange places. His normally sun-kissed skin was a translucent pale color, the dark circles around his eyes standing out in stark glasses where lying on the table placed next to him. His hands had been cleaned thoroughly and fresh white bandages were wrapped around his wrists.

Even in his sleep America was crying, wet tracks tracing down his temple and disappearing into his hair. America looked like a ghost and England felt himself begin to tremble slightly. He walked over to Matthew's side and watched the young nation hold his brother's hand tightly with one hand as he held on to his polar bear with the other.

"Look at what you've done," Francis hissed as he looked at America. "I thought you were fixing him, not making him worse!"

"You have no right to judge you bloody git," England shot back. France was just about to retort when Matthew stopped the both of them.

"Please stop fighting." The two nations looked down at him. "No one could have stopped Alfred, even if they wanted to," he explained in a tired whisper. "You would have just gotten hurt too."

"What are you talking about?" England asked him.

"Haven't you seen the news?" Francis asked him. "Twenty-six people were killed today at an elementary school. Twenty of them were children." England felt his stomach grow queasy. Outside the wind moaned and thunder rumbled. "Children?" he repeated. Francis nodded.

"Al loves children," Matthew told them both in a quiet voice. "Especially the 1st graders. He volunteers at a school not too far from here actually. I doubt he actually saw it on the news. He probably could hear them screaming, probably still can." His grip tightened on his brother's hand.

"Bloody hell," England said quietly as he looked down at America. The Brit supposed he probably would have lost it too if he started hearing children screaming in his ears. He'd heard quite a few things in his immortal life and he had to say that the children were the ones that consistently got past his guard and tormented his mind and spirit. There was just no sound on Earth that could cause a person so much pain as a child crying out. "But his wrists…" Francis said.

"The doctor said that America used his own nails," England told them quietly. Francis looked at England in horror and then back at America.

"Matthieu why didn't you tell me it started up again sooner?" France asked. Matthew just shook his head.

"Wait, what do you mean sooner?" England asked. "Did you know about America too?" Francis nodded.

"Matthieu asked for my 'elp when it 'appened the first time and I 'ad a nice friendly chat with America. He promised 'e'd stop and we let it drop there."

"How come I was the last one to know about this?" England asked angrily.

"Well my dear Angleterre, when it first 'appened you and America were still not on good speaking terms so Matthieu asked for my assistance instead." England bit his tongue, not able to come up with anything to argue with. He looked at America's closed eyes and watched the light rise and fall of his chest.

Well he may have not been there the first bloody time, but he was going to do everything he could this time around.

**If I ever do a modern au with America I'm totally making him a kindergarten/1st grade teacher, he just fits the role a bit too well XD**

**So now everyone knows everything and Iggy's even more determined to help out especially since France was there first.**

**Well that's it for me right now, see you lovelies later :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey guys how's it going? Sorry I didn't give you this chapter yesterday but I got carried away packing up all my stuff and one thing led to another and then it was 5 am and I was driving to the airport! **

**Thankfully the hotel I'm staying at for a few days has wifi so I can bring you this chapter and the next chapter which I have scheduled for today! So two chapters in one day, yay!**

**Guys I can't believe we've gotten past fifty reviews! Birthday cake with OTPs on top for everyone!**

**Seriously though it's awesome and I happy you guys like the story enough to write reviews :)**

**Al's story is starting to wind down. Only about three chapters and then Idiot Hero is over and we move across the globe to Feli's story!**

**Warning though there is mention of cutting so if that's a trigger then you guys can just skip this chapter and move on to the next m'kay? I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable with the subject material.**

**Alright a little USUK fluff, some revelations and a not so nice surprise await!**

**Onward!**

Chapter 12

(America)

When he opened his eyes, all he could see were bright lights blinding him.

When his eyes readjusted he realized that he was lying in the hospital. Struggling to sit up America looked around and saw England asleep, his head resting on his hand on the mattress. His other hand was holding America's left hand tightly, their fingers intertwined. America felt himself blush as he looked at their hands but was then interrupted as the Brit stirred.

He made an adorable (wait that is so not adora- aw fuck it, it totally is adorable dammit!) sleepy noise in the back of his throat as his emerald eyes slowly opened. When he looked up and saw America looking at him, their eyes locked.

Then quite suddenly the Brit shouted and threw his arms around America. He awkwardly put his hand around the Brit's slim waist as he felt him shaking and noticed the fresh bandages covering his wrists. "Um England you're choking me," America said, which was quite true. The island nation had America in a death hold.

"Sorry, sorry," England mumbled as he pulled away and sat back down in his chair, his eyes shining. America had never seen the self-proclaimed gentleman in such a wreck. He felt that he had to try and cheer him up.

_Wait I want to cheer him up? Shouldn't I still hate him?_ But America couldn't muster up enough hate for anything. He just felt so tired inside.

"Please don't tell me you're about to start crying on me," America said, trying to joke. England chuckled and rubbed his eyes.

"Just shut up you idiot," he said half-heartedly. "Do you know how worried you made everyone?"

"Everyone?" America asked warily, suddenly dreading the thought that Mattie had told everyone and all the countries were waiting outside.

"Matthew and Francis are outside right now getting themselves some coffee."

"France is here?" America asked. England nodded.

"Your brother asked him to come. He was the one who found you and called the ambulance I guess," the Brit said bitterly.

"Oh," was all America could think of to say. Then quite suddenly he felt the pain of losing the children come back to him. His breath hitched slightly and a single tear escaped and fell down his cheek. "Great, now you're the one crying," England joked and moved to brush the rear away.

America flinched involuntarily at the contact. It wasn't that he didn't like England touching him but his body just naturally reacted that way in this state. England didn't seem to realize this though as he quickly took his hand back, his face burning in embarrassment. "I'll go tell the others you're awake," England mumbled, not meeting his eyes as he got up and walked out the room.

When the door closed America's hands tightened into fists, causing the white bandages to begin turning red. He wanted to call out after the Brit but then Mattie and Francis came flying in and America had to take care of them.

…

He stayed in the hospital for another few days before Mattie convinced the doctors that he was okay to leave. The doctors gave America a bunch of different pills to take over the next few months. Hopefully they would keep his mood mellow, so that even if something like that happened again, he'd be able to stop himself before he went at his wrists.

During those few days England didn't come back into his room. On the way home that evening Mattie tried talking to him while driving but America's mind was elsewhere. Francis had driven back to his hotel room to change and then go and make something up about his and Mattie's unexpected leave during the World Meeting.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" Mattie asked as his car idled outside America's house.

"Nah man, it's cool," he said as he slid out. "You've been living out of those clothes for four days straight," he joked. "Just go home and get some rest." Mattie smiled and then laughed. "What's so funny?" he asked. Mattie shook his head, still smiling.

"It's just nice to hear you joking again," Mattie told him earnestly. "I missed that." His words made America pause for a moment before he smiled and waved at Mattie's retreating car.

He hadn't really realized up until now how much he'd been hurting Mattie. He remembered him sitting next to him in the ambulance, sobbing against his arm. Even if America was the one experiencing the pain directly, everyone else felt it too. Maybe he wasn't as worthless as he felt.

He closed the door behind him as he walked inside, kicking off his shoes.

He listened to see if Tony was hanging out in living room but everything was quiet. He headed upstairs to take a shower and put some new clothes on because like Mattie he'd been living out of his clothes for four days as well.

As he neared his bedroom he suddenly stopped and sniffed the air. He narrowed his eyes as he smelled a mix of whiskey and cheap beer. He thought England had gotten rid of all alcohol though there was America's secret six-pack downstairs.

He noticed his bedroom door was cracked and poked his head in curiously. To his complete surprise he saw England sitting against the wall, more than a few whiskey bottles scattered around his feet as well as America's beer. "England what the hell are you doing?" America asked as he opened the door fully and walked in.

"Isn't it obvious?" the Brit replied, his words slurring horribly. "I'm wallowing in my own self-pity." America came over and squatted in front of him. He was tempted to join him, the remaining alcohol in the room appealing greatly to him. But he couldn't. England needed him right now, and he needed him sober.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Enough," he said with a hiccup. "It's good for erasing the pain." America rolled his eyes. Well, duh he knew that. That had been the whole point of his wine cellar before England mostly got rid of it. "Don't I know it," he muttered and easily snatched the half-empty bottle out of the Brit's hands.

"Hey I wasn't done with that you git," he grumbled.

"Why are you wasted England," America asked, ignoring him.

"You don't honestly think you're the only one do you?" he asked, suddenly sounding ridiculously sober. America's eyes widened in surprise. England's eyes drifted towards the window. "I may have not killed my own people like you, but it still hurts every day."

"England… I…," he said softly trailing off. America was just beginning to realize how naïve he had been thinking lately.

"Oh course you didn't you git. I'm a gentleman remember?" America remained quiet. England hiccupped and moved his arm in a vague motion. America looked at his hands and began quaking. There on England's wrist were neat little slashes across his skin, the blood slowly oozing out. A small bloody knife lay off to the side.

"England what have you done?" America asked in horror. What America did to himself was an involuntary action, there was no conscious thought. This though, was very deliberate.

England looked down at his wrist. "Oh that, well this one is the Roses War, this is the Hundred Years', World War I, World War II, War of Spanish Succession, Seven Year's War, the Opium Wars, the Crimean War…" The list seemed to go on forever. Near the end though England paused and his hand shook slightly.

"Which one is this one," America asked gently. He watched a tear go down the drunk nation's face.

"The one that started everything. If anyone is to blame for your current situation… they should blame me. To think I caused you to be hospitalized… I was such a horrible big brother," he mumbled. He glanced up at the stunned American.

Suddenly America threw his arms around the Brit and hugged him tight. When he let go he immediately to the bathroom to grab bandages. He couldn't believe that England had always been in that much pain and never said anything about it. He'd always assumed that England had some sort of immunity to all the war and death. That he simply didn't feel the same connection to his people that America felt.

Now in hindsight he knew that he was wrong. England felt the same pain that continuously tore America apart, maybe all of the nations did. They'd just become better at hiding it than him. They found things, hobbies, to occupy their time so that they didn't think about the past. France had his wine and la 'amour, Japan had his video games, Prussia had his impractical jokes, Germany had his cleaning, Italy had his obsession with pasta. The list could go on and on.

He came back into his room and found England asleep against the wall. He must have worn himself out talking. Smiling to himself he carefully lifted England up and put him in America's bed. He put the blankets over him and then collected up the bottles. "Goodnight… Iggy," he said softly before closing the door.

Going outside to the trash can America was still reeling from England's confession. When he reached the trash can he took a look at the whiskey bottles in his hands. An image of England crying flashed across his mind and frowning angrily, he dropped them all in the trash and marched back inside to take up his position on the couch.

**Iggy how could you!? Well at least you helped Alfred snap out of his self-pity. Finally our American is starting to "see the light" so to speak.**

**Next chapter is the chapter you guys have all been waiting for! USUK FTW!**

**See you lovelies soon ;)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Alright guys, like I said I'm rolling out two chapters in one day. I can die having accomplished something now ;)**

**Hopefully if I have time before my wifi leaves I'll put up the last two chapters. That's right guys, just two more chapters after this one!**

**Hope ya'll like it!**

Chapter 13

(America)

He woke up early the next day. Sitting up and working out all the kinks in his back from sleeping on the couch, America tried not thinking about last night.

Sighing, he got up and made his way into the kitchen to get breakfast started. Since England got pretty wasted last night he didn't expect him to get up for another hour or so.

As he got out the ingredients for waffles (don't tell Mattie but America likes waffles better than pancakes, gasp!) he suddenly realized that he had started getting hungry again. When was the last time he'd been hungry again?

…

(England)

America was just taking off the second waffle when England stumbled down the stairs.

He came in with one hand pressed against his temple, muttering vaguely to himself about how he'd swear off whiskey for the rest of his life (cause we all know how well that goes). "Good morning America," the Brit mumbled as he sat down at the breakfast table.

"Mornin' England," America said cheerfully and pushed a plate of waffles in front of him. Jeez what was wrong with him? He was actually choosing to be nice? Maybe it's those pill things. "Just came off," he said and put the maple syrup down beside him.

"You seem cheery today," England observed as America sat down across from him with his own three waffles.

"Well the doctors loaded me up with like ten different drugs to keep me happy, so I guess it's working!" England sighed and massaged his temple with both hands.

"Ugh, I can barely think through this stupid hangover," he grumbled. As he continued to massage his head the cuff of his sleeve fell down to reveal the white bandage. England saw the other nation's preoccupation and his eyes traveled down to his wrists.

"It's not polite to stare you know," he said as he carefully covered the bandage up. America mumbled an apology as he stared at his food.

England felt ashamed about his actions. Here he was, trying to keep America on the straight and narrow and then jumping off the wagon himself. It was just seeing America in such pain, it had caused all those horrible memories of his own past that he kept locked away to spring back up and take advantage of his confused mind.

"Do you want to talk about it?" The island nation looked up at America in surprise. The nation's cheeks were pink and he refused to meet his gaze.

"N-no I think I'll be okay," he stammered, his own cheeks flaring.

"Oh okay. I just thought I'd offer," America said quickly. He shoveled the rest of his food into his mouth and then quickly put it in the dishwasher. "Hey why don't we go out?" America suddenly suggested. England was inclined to disagree due to his hangover, but he saw the pleading look in the younger nation's cerulean eyes and sighed. "Well alright. Did you have a place in mind?"

Surprisingly, America took him over to Boston for the day.

It was a complete 180 from the last time England had forced him to come outside with him. This time America was the one leading England around, pointing out new skyscrapers that had gone up recently, taking him the newer sections of the city England hadn't been to before.

England watched as America walked up and down the streets, being recognized left and right by the Bostonians. They had a deep-rooted, special relationship with him that England had never been able to understand. Even though they were humans, they somehow instinctual knew America and called out hellos to him. Even the children would wave and say hello to their nation.

America waved back excitedly and England couldn't help staring at him as he smiled.

England realized he was seeing a real smile, not one of those obnoxious ones he always gave the other countries during meetings. It was one of those special ones he reserved for the people he loved most. England felt more than a little jealous that he had never received one of those smiles. England sighed, his cheeks pink.

He'd given up on denying his feelings for America a long time ago. Just everything he did seemed to brighten up England's day, even the small annoying things that England would half-heartedly snap at. It didn't hurt that he was absolutely stunning in his eyes either, but he knew that he'd never be able to admit his feelings.

America probably didn't even think of him like that anyways. Even if they just stayed friends though, England would be happy with that.

Eventually they made their way to the older parts of town and even England knew where they were going now. They walked through the North End and past the docks until they ended up on Breed's Hill in the setting sun.

There was no one there as they walked up the steps. America sighed as he sat on the top step of the staircase before the Bunker Hill monument. "Wow today was crazy," he said tiredly. "Thanks for coming along with me. I felt like I owed you a proper tour after the last time."

"Thanks," the island nation said as he sat down next to America. He sighed as he stared out at the city across the Charles River. "The city doesn't seem to have changed at all," he commented. "Maybe the buildings have, but its character certainly hasn't." America made a noise of agreement in the back of his throat. "Actually isn't this the place where…?"

"Yup, I officially kicked your butt for the first time on this hill," America proclaimed.

"Yes, you surely did…" England said, trailing off as he looked at the ground. America looked at him curiously.

"You okay England?" he asked. England shook his head and he hated himself as a tear slipped down his cheek. "Whoa England what's wrong," America asked, moving his head so he could see the Brit better. "I just… I just hate this."

"Wh-what?" America asked. England turned and stared the American down.

"All this time you've been suffering, and I'm the one who started it. It's my fault that you started drinking, that you… ended up in the hospital. I should have been there for you and I wasn't. I was a coward," he said angrily.

"England-"

"Let me finish you idiot," England snapped. The younger country closed his mouth. "I didn't realize that I'd put you in so much pain. I… tried to make up for it," he said, exposing the bandage on his arm.

"But it didn't work. All it did was get you angry and leave me with more pain. You… you asked me once if I wanted something once." America's eyes widened in shock. "Well," he said, more tears falling down his face. "I want you to be angry with me. I want you to give me what I deserve."

America stood up and moved so he squatted in front of England, their heads level. "You really want me too?" America asked, his body quivering. England nodded. America moved in closer, their faces inches apart. England couldn't help the heat coming to his cheeks.

"England," America said angrily. England braced himself for the worst. "… Thank you." Then to the island nation's utter surprise America was suddenly kissing him!

**Bwaha I'm such a tease. I said there would be USUK... I just never said how much would be in the chapter ;)**

**I have the last two chapters already mapped out so hopefully they'll be up soon depending on wifi connectivity and all that stuff. Until next time!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hooray I'm back from the dead! The hiatus is officially over bitches! XD**

**I hope that is the first and last time I ever say that again *shudders*. Anyways I'm back from Cali which was awesome but it reaffirmed that I'll always be an East Coast girl. Still Cali was awesome and I had a blast! Hope all you guys survived okay without me.**

**Alright so this is it, one more chapter after this and we're on to Feli! I want to thank all you guys who've stuck with this story. I mean seriously almost 100 followers?! I never thought so many people would like it and I'm happy that you guys do.**

**Alright real quick I'm gonna answer a few reviews:**

**ShadowFox197 - oh my god you're review had me laughing for a solid minute! Oh course our sexy American would have an eight-pack!**

**To the guest, whoever you are, I understand what you mean when you say the kiss happened too fast. This was my first USUK fic I'd written so I was still unsure how to do the romance aspect of it. I hope I improved though with the GerIta in Italy's story, let me know!**

**Alright so here is the next chapter for all you awesome people, Enjoy!**

Chapter 14

(America)

He hadn't honestly planned on kissing England. It just that their faces were so close together and America's heart was beating so fast that it just somehow happened. What shocked him the most was how much he liked England's lips against his. The Brit had been initially stunned but then moved his hands so they wrapped around America's waist and drew him closer while America moved his hand through his fine hair.

He was just starting to really get into it when England roughly pushed him away. America frowned as he stood up and retreated a few steps away, his face blazing. "Wha-what the bloody hell was that?" the confused nation managed to get out. America smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head.

"Well you asked me to give you what you deserved so… yeah," the American said awkwardly.

"And why the hell did I deserve that?" he sputtered.

"Well, it's just that you've been a huge help to me these few weeks. I don't think I'd be like this now if you hadn't done all this."

"But don't you blame me at all? I'm the one who caused you to start all this." America shook his head.

"No way man! Even if I did hate you, it was never because of _that_. I've never really blamed you for what's happened to me, not really." The island nation stared at him, hanging onto his every word. America shifted his weight between his feet, trying to figure out how to explain all the crazy thoughts running around in his mind. The doctor who'd taken care of him had told him that it'd really help him if he talked this type of stuff out, and he knew that he especially needed to explain himself to England.

"I know like it seems like I'm lying, after all I felt like I basically hated all of you just a week ago, and I still kinda do hate you guys in a way, but a lot has changed I guess. Since you came to take care of me, I've started to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Cheesy I know, but it's true!" America took a deep breath. This was the hard part, admitting the pain he felt deep within his heart.

But he knew it had to be done. England had already done so much for him to get to this point and he wanted to come clean to him. He owed the island nation this much at least.

"I used to hate myself," he started. "I thought that I was useless, all I caused was pain. My people keep hurting each other and I can't do anything about it and it makes me feel helpless and guilty, like it's all my fault. You guys all seem to be able to move on without any pain and it made me resent you guys for your apparent ignorant bliss. However, you showed me that you guys are just better at hiding it from me." England glanced away at this and unconsciously tugged at his bandaged sleeve. America continued on though.

"Then you and Mattie started shoving yours noses in my business and I've sorta begun to realize that maybe you don't actually hate me and that maybe... maybe I shouldn't hate me either," America explained with a quiet chuckle.

Everyone was always putting him down, insulting his people and him in general. He'd never let on to how much it hurt, but it hurt like hell and had provided the coal to fuel his depression. He didn't really know how he felt really, confused as hell was the best way to put it, but he realized that his existence mattered to someone else and that made him ridiculously happy.

"You were right," he murmured softly.

"Right about what?" England asked. America shifted his weight from one foot to another, still uncomfortable with the subject.

"About that thingy you said I had," he muttered, glancing away.

"Shell-shock?" America nodded slightly. "Well it took you long enough you idiot." America couldn't help chuckling. Even though America was a superpower now England still put him in his place like he was still a little colony.

"I didn't want to admit it to anyone, cause it was embarrassing and I thought that you'd all reject me for good for being such a coward. You and Mattie have made me realize now though that I was wrong and you two are the reason that I want to get better again and I think I can, but not without you Iggy. That first night when you came in and stayed with me through my nightmare, I knew…"

"Knew what?" England asked suspiciously. America chuckled. Who know it'd feel so weird to try and explain his feelings like this?

"I knew that I could never hate you no matter how much I desperately wanted to." America watched the nation's bushy eyebrows rise in shock. "No matter how much I tried, I couldn't get myself to hate you, not completely anyways. I never really realized how much energy it took for me to hate all you guys, hah, maybe that's why I'm always sleeping so much! In fact I think it was that night that I started to fall in love with you." he mused aloud.

"You _what_?" England exclaimed. America felt his cheeks burning.

"Shit there I go again running my big mouth," he muttered to himself. Stupid drugs.

"Ah, jeez it's getting late. We should really start heading back before we hit heavy traffic." He turned around and started down the steps already envisioning the awkward car ride.

He'd meant what he'd said though. Actually if he really thought about it, America had been in love with England for quite a while, way back to the start of the Revolutionary War. He'd pushed all those feelings down after their relationship went to hell when he declared his independence. He thought England despised him so he'd given up any hope of being loved again, but being constantly around England again these past few weeks had brought everything back into sharp focus.

He knew it was probably weird for England, America used to be one of his colonies after all. He had probably only ever thought of him as a younger brother and nothing more.

"Bloody hell, America _get back here_!"

America immediately stopped and turned around to see England's arms crossed across his chest, his foot tapping the ground impatiently. He quickly jumped back up the stairs and walked until he stood in front of England. He stood awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

The gentleman sighed and uncrossed his arms. "God America don't you have any manners? When you tell someone you love them out of the blue you can't just go running off."

"Ah, England I'm-" America tried to say but the Brit cut him off.

"I mean you didn't even wait to hear my reply," he said irritated.

"Reply?" America repeated. England sighed.

"You're such a bloody idiot sometimes you know?" he said and then pulled America's head down and kissed him. This time the American was the stunned one as England moved his hands through his hair. America could feel that peace settle inside of him again, muffling out all the dark voices and replacing them with blissful silence.

"Damn," he breathed out when England gave him a chance to breath. "You're one hell of a kisser Iggy."

"You're not so bad yourself," England replied, ignoring the annoying nickname. "You can use my other name… if you want," he said, ending on a hesitant note. America realized immediately the enormity of what England had just said

"Sure thing… Arthur." He watched bemusedly as a shiver ran up the smaller nations back.

"Come on you git. You said you'd get me home before the traffic got bad," the Brit stammered, his face red. He marched down the steps and turned around to see America still standing there, looking up at the monument in front of him.

America looked at the monument, all the memories of his history swirling within him. It all started right here in this city. He knew that even with that little speech he'd given England that it'd definitely take a lot of work to get better, it made him nervous just thinking about giving up booze, his crutch. But he wasn't going to back down, not on this.

The hero never backs down from anything, and America desperately wanted to be the hero he always crowed about. Well he already had his damsel in distress sorted out, so he was already half-way there practically!

"Alfred come on!" England called out. The mention of his human name caused America to jump a little before he came running down the stairs after England, laughing like a madman.

Man, it felt good to laugh again!

**Aw, I just love me some USUK and a happy Alfred **

**It's about damn time that boy was happy :)**

**I was wondering if any of you picked up on the whole name situation, cause the use of human vs. nation name was very much on purpose. Cookies to anyone who figured it out!**

**I'll post the ending chapter tomorrow and then we'll begin Feli's journey. If you thought America's story was dark then you're in for something big when you read Feli's. **

**On that ominous note I'll take my leave,**

**see you all tomorrow!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Alright guys, this is the last installment of Idiot Hero and then we're moving on to Bearing the Cross which is Italy's story! I'll put Feli's story up a bit later today just to give you guys a little taste of what you're in for cause I'm evil like that ;)**

**Dudes, your comments are awesome and I love all of them! I also can't believe this thing has just under 100 followers, like holy shit!**

**ShadowFox197 - Dude East Coast eats Cali for breakfast! Lol jk but while you guys have better mexican food we have better seafood so suck on a lobster! Though I'd suggest against it as it will break your nose off in the process ;)**

**Midna18 - I glad you liked last chapter and I hope I didn't cause you too much pain from withdrawls ;) Cali was awesome and I recommend everyone visit at least once!**

**FanfikFreakazoid - Dude thanks for the compliment! For some reason when dark + romance are combined I just get in the zone, ya know? I'm excited that you're pumped up for Feli! Honestly I feel like I've been basically building up his story up to be a masterpiece and then everyone's gonna read it and go like... what? XD Hope you like it though!**

**Without further adieu I give you the grand finale to Idiot Hero!**

Chapter 15

Three Weeks Later

(America)

America picked at the sleeve of his bomber jacket nervously.

"Stop doing that," Arthur said as the elevator door closed beside them. "It's just a World Meeting you know. It's not like a talent show or something." The World Meetings in America had since ended three weeks ago and it was now Arthur's turn to host them. He had invited America to come over to his house yesterday so they could prepare for the scene that would soon be greeting them.

America had been doing very good on the medications he'd been prescribed and he was even helping Iggy deal with his own dark past. They'd joined some sort of group therapy thing and it still amazed America how well it had been working for the two of them.

Together they were walking the straight and narrow as soberly as possible.

America was still worried though. How would the other nations react when they saw him? He and England hadn't gone to a single World Meeting in those three weeks, using Mattie and Francis as middlemen. He was sure there would be lots of questions. He still wasn't sure if rejoining the world was good for him yet.

"Don't worry love, everything will be fine," Arthur said, reading his mind. He took America's hand and squeezing it reassuringly. America returned the pressure and gave him a small smile. "I'll be sitting right next to you the entire time," Arthur reassured him, causing America's cheeks to turn pink.

"And Matthew will be there and of course Francis will sadly be there too." _Way to ruin the mood idiot_, America thought humorously.

"Yeah I know that," America said. "But still…"

"Don't worry. I had Francis talk with Germany. Everything has been settled and no questions will be asked." America sighed in relief.

"Thanks Arthur," he said gratefully.

"If I couldn't do all this for my hero, then what sort of gentleman would I be?" Arthur said with a devious smile. America just smiled and leaned down to kiss the Brit gently. The elevator doors opened and the two nations sadly broke apart, though they held hands up until they reached the meeting door.

They may be comfortable with being together by themselves now, but they didn't think they were ready to show it to the entire world. The two nations walked in side by side and America was surprised to see that almost everyone else was here. Well it did make sense since England was a hell of a lot closer than America.

"Ha, I finally made you late," America said quietly to Arthur. He just sighed and shook his head. Everyone had been chatting quietly amongst themselves but the room fell silent as the two men walked in. America felt himself begin to tremble slightly, already thinking of the quickest escape route when Arthur put a light hand on his back. Gently, he guided the nervous country to his normal seat and sat down beside him.

…

(England)

He watched as Alfred looked down and played with his fingers, glancing up only when Francis moved his seat so he could chat with him.

England moved a bit out of the way so the two countries could chat better and smiled as Francis slowly brought Alfred out of his shell. If the country of love was good at one thing, making people comfortable would be it.

He watched Alfred as he began to perk up, a sparkle in his cerulean eyes. It had been a while since he'd seen Alfred such a nervous wreck. It was almost like when Alfred had still been a colony. He'd never admit it but he had been a timid child for quite some time, almost as quiet and brooding as his brother.

The past Alfred though was quite different though from the current Alfred in many important ways though. The Brit felt his cheeks warm as he continued to stare at Alfred. He still couldn't believe how much his relationship with the nation had changed. Sure, he'd always cared for Alfred, but he'd never imagined that he'd fall in love with him one day.

Alfred had taken everything in stride, giving England time to come to terms with each other. It was still confusing sifting through his emotions but he knew in the depths of his heart that he truly loved the obnoxious superpower, no matter how hesitant his mind was.

A few more nations came in and took their seats, going quiet like everyone else when they saw Alfred and him sitting in their spots. Then Alfred looked up and smiled as he saw Matthew walk in. Matthew smiled and gave him a small wave before making his way to his seat next to Alfred and started talking with his brother.

Surrounded by the love of his family, Alfred grew more relaxed though he still wouldn't look at any of the other countries. England made eye contact with the semi-stunned German and nodded for him to proceed.

…

(America)

Thank god Germany finally started the meeting. Though a few eyes still remained on him, most of the countries had turned their attention to the German. America felt more and more comfortable as the meeting went on and the nations ignored him.

It was an unusually hot day that day and the AC seemed to be broken. Halfway through the meeting America couldn't stand the heat any longer and unconsciously rolled up his sleeves.

"So anyvays with this the economy should hopefully pick back up ag-" Germany suddenly stopped as he saw the bandages. The German's abrupt silence caused the other nations to follow Germany's gaze and see America's bandages. America didn't notice any of this since he was looking down at a report, but looked up when the German suddenly stopped talking and saw everyone staring at him.

"What the hell?" he asked quietly.

"Alfred, um, your sleeves," Arthur said in quiet shock, just realizing his boyfriend's situation. America looked down and turned completely red as he saw the exposed bandages. He'd gotten used to showing them in the house around Arthur, so he hadn't really thought about it when he'd been spacing out while reading the report with Arthur right beside him.

Unable to hide his embarrassment he rolled his sleeves back down quickly, his fingers gripping the edges of the bomber jacket tightly.

"A-america?" Japan asked in shock. America glanced up and saw that Italy had turned as white as a sheet, Prussia had become uncharacteristically quiet, and Romano and Spain had actually stopped bickering for the moment.

_Shit._

America could feel the weight of all their stares and was ready to bolt. He flew half-way out his chair and was already running out the door in his mind when Arthur grabbed America's arm. America looked at Arthur, his eyes scared. "Sit down Alfred," Arthur said gently yet firmly. "It's all going to be just fine." The two nations looked at each other for another moment before America sat back down, his hand gripping Arthur's tightly under the table.

"América, are you okay mi amigo?" Spain asked worriedly. "Where did the bandages come from?" America opened his mouth to answer but didn't need to.

"It's nothing Spain," Arthur said coolly. Spain narrowed his eyes at him.

"I understand what you're trying to do but this isn't something you can just put to the side for the moment," Spain said. The other nations nodded in agreement.

"Spain is right," Prussia agreed. "America what's going on? What are those unawesome bandages doing there?" America looked down, unable to find any words to say. Arthur was way ahead of him though. "Calm down everyone," he said in that same cool voice. "They're just battle wounds."

America looked up in surprise at the Brit as he gave America a small smile. "We all have our fair share of them I'm sure," he said making a point to look all the nations in the eye. None of them could meet his emerald gaze.

"Thank you," America said quietly to the island nation. Arthur smiled back at him as he let go of America's hand and leaned back in his chair; throwing his arms behind his head and having them dangle above his head off the back of the chair.

"Honestly I don't know what all the fuss is about," he said as he loosened the buttons on his dress shirt and let the sleeves down, revealing his own arm. A shock wave emanated throughout the meeting room as everyone saw the numerous cuts on Arthur's wrist. Since Arthur's wrist hadn't been as serious as America's he had been the first one to get his bandages taken off. The cuts were still only half-healed though and were all plainly visible.

"Arthur, your arms," America said uneasily.

"England, you-you," Germany stuttered in horror.

"What I can't roll my sleeves up now?" Arthur asked, clearly annoyed as he glanced at Germany. "It's ridiculously hot in here. I'll have to bring someone in tomorrow to fix the bloody AC," he said with a sigh.

"But your wrist though…" Arthur glanced at his wrist.

"It's just a battle wound," America stated. Everyone turned and looked at the young nation. He shrugged and tried to look indifferent. "Like Iggy said, it's a battle wound. Stop making such a big deal about it. Come on, don't we still have a meeting to finish?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at Germany.

There was a moment of tense silence before Germany cleared his throat loudly and tried to do as the American said. However he was quickly interrupted as Francis flew out of his seat and wrapped his hands around Arthur's neck.

"You stupid idiot! I wasn't going to but now I'll make sure to 'it you so 'ard you go all the way back to the sixteenth century you bastard!" Francis cried, tears in his eyes as he hugged the Brit.

"You bloody git, let go of me!" Arthur yelled as he struggled against Francis's hold. His grip loosened for a moment and Arthur took the chance to jump out of his grip and landed on America's lap. The two looked up at each other, both faces turning red. "Thanks for saving me," Arthur mumbled. America smiled.

"Well if I couldn't save my gentleman, what kind of hero would I be?"

"Alfred…" the Brit said softly. Momentarily forgetting the rest of the countries, America smiled slowly and intertwined his hand with Arthur's and kissed him. A very loud throat-clearing broke the two nations apart and they looked to see a very red faced German staring pointedly at the table.

Nearby Austria and Prussia were trying to revive Hungary who had fainted and had a horrible nosebleed. Japan snapped a quick picture of the two countries before tending to his own nosebleed.

"Just what the hell are you doing in front of my little sister?" Switzerland demanded angrily as he loaded up an AK-47 he somehow got his hands on. He stood in front of Lichtenstein protectively but the smaller nation poked her head around her big brother's waist, watching everything curiously.

"My place my rules," England smirked, tightening his grip on America. Then just to piss everyone off he kissed the American again, leaving America flustered and causing an uproar. America watched Germany face palm and then yell that the meeting was over for the day, muttering to himself as Italy followed him out the door.

America turned his attention back to his Brit and smiled at him. It was strange, smiling again.

It's definitely something he could get used to though.

**Hooray America gets a happy ending! Dude deserved it after the hell I put him through... sorry Al...**

**Don't think this is the last time you'll be seeing our new couple though, somehow they managed to weasel their way into Feli's story (I can't help it, I literally live and breathe USUK, it's a bit of a problem really)**

**Hope you guys didn't mind the Black Butler I shoved into your eyes. I just love that line. I was tempted to add "I'm just one _hell_ of a butler" in there somewhere but I felt it was pushing it so I put it in here instead! **

**While this story had some Black Butler, the other will have some HetaOni references so I just want to prepare you. I literally still can't listen to certain songs or look at certain pictures without breaking down and I played it _months _ago. So... yeah if you become an emotional wreck like me with HetaOni references just let me know and I'll post a warning or something.**

**I'll see you lovelies soon when I post the next chapter!**


	16. Part Two: Bearing the Cross Chapter 1

**Wooh here we are at last! I'll attempt to keep this brief so you guys can get to the story. It's basically the same spiel I gave at the beginning of Idiot Hero so if you've already read that then just skip this and read on. If not then just take a minute to read this. Italy's self-harm _is_ consciously inflicted self-harm so if that triggers anyone then maybe you shouldn't read. Honestly though I think I wrote those scenes pretty crappily cause I have no experience in that so it may be vague enough not to trigger. However I wanted the warning to be there nonetheless. There's no alcohol in this story so I'm not putting a warning up for that but I will warn you against the Italian brothers' mouths.**

**Wow that was a mouth full but I think I got it all out there.**

**Now please enjoy Feli's journey.**

**I haven't done one of these in a while but just in case ya'll didn't know, I don't own Hetalia but a girl can dream right?**

Part Two: Bearing the Cross

Chapter 1

(Italy)

He was grateful Germany had called an end to the meeting after America and England had started making out in front of everyone. It gave him an excuse to get away from the happy couple as fast as he could.

"Ve- Germany I think I'm going to head home," Italy told Germany as they made their way down the hall towards the front door.

"Are you sure Italy?" Germany asked. "Why not just head back to your hotel room? We still have another meeting in England tomorrow." Italy shook his head.

"I'm not feeling very well," he told him, which was quite true. Italy felt like he might puke any minute. "I don't want to get everyone else sick too," he continued. "Romano knows everything I do so it shouldn't be a problem." Germany looked at him for a moment before sighing.

"Well all right, if you're really not feeling well then you should go home and get some rest."

"Ve- Germany thank you!" Italy said, beaming. They said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. As soon as the German couldn't see him, Italy dropped the smile. It was so much work keeping up appearances in front of people, especially Germany.

Those last few weeks without America to distract everyone had been hell because that meant that the nations actually remembered Italy was there and he had to put on a show for them. At least with the stupid American back Italy could fade into the crowd again.

Italy took a direct flight from England to Italy, not bothering to stop at his hotel room to pick up his stuff. He'd just ask Romano and Spain to bring it back with them after the meeting. Besides, Italy didn't care if he left his stuff or not. There was nothing there that he loved, in fact maybe he'd just not say anything to Romano and just leave it there.

When he got home he just went straight to his bedroom and laid down on his bed. He didn't bother taking his clothes off. _What's the point when I'll just put on new clothes tomorrow?_ As he stared up at the ceiling an image of America and England kissing flashed across his mind.

He flinched and his hands curled into fists but he resisted the urge to punch anything.

Who gave them the right? Who gave them the goddamn right to flaunt their love to everyone else? Italy was frustrated and angry, but no tears came. Instead the whole thing just left him feeling empty and tired.

_I really shouldn't be working myself up so much when I know I can't cry anymore,_ he thought to himself. He hadn't been able shed a tear in centuries.

…

He woke up the next morning to weak light streaming through his windows. He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday. Getting up, Italy began the laborious process of picking out a new outfit and then laid back down on his bed. There, that was all he had to do for the day.

No one would be coming around to annoy Italy today since they were all at the meeting. Italy smiled to himself as he closed his eyes again. He should fake being sick more often.

He'd only closed his eyes for what seemed like a moment when a suddenly loud knock at the door woke him up. He stayed in bed though, hoping that if he stayed quiet then whoever was at the door would leave. He noticed vaguely that afternoon light was pouring through the window now. He had slept the entire day away without even realizing it.

He heard the knocking again and felt something click in his mind. He recognized the uniform knocking and he groaned in annoyance. Only Germany knocks like that.

Quietly muttering a string of curses the Italian got up and put on his blue military jacket as he came down the stairs. He quickly ran a hand through his hair to make it look presentable before opening the door, smiling cheerily at Germany. "Ve- Germany what are you doing here?" Italy asked curiously.

"The meeting ended early today so I thought I'd come and check up on you," Germany explained. "You seem to be looking better." Italy nodded enthusiastically while he inwardly cursed the German. "Ve- I am feeling much better. I guess the bug I had wasn't as bad as I thought!" he lied. Germany nodded.

"Yes, I expected as much," he agreed.

"Would you like to come in and have something to eat?" Italy asked his ally. It was just formalities though. He prayed Germany would just make some excuse and head back to his home. Sadly, things didn't seem to be going the Italian's way. Germany gave the country a tight smile.

"Yes, if you wouldn't mind," he said. Italy gave Germany a big smile before racing inside to prepare the pasta, leaving the door open for Germany to come in. As Italy cooked their food Germany sat down at the dining room table in the other room, looking around at the Italian's house.

Italy came back into the dining room with two plates of pasta. Germany graciously accepted his food and they ate together. "So why'd the meeting end early today Germany?" Italy asked as he nibbled his food. Germany sighed. "

America, England, and France got into an argument as usual. France and England started to bicker about when England and America got together and of course America jumped into the conversation upon hearing his name. England decided to get back at France by kissing America in front of him which caused an uproar. Hungary fainted again, Switzerland threatened World War III if they didn't stop kissing in front of Lichtenstein, and in general everything fell apart."

"Ve- I'm sorry Germany," Italy said sympathetically. In reality though he couldn't care less and just the mention of England and America's happy relationship made him want to stab something. Germany gave him a small smile, unaware of the Italian's inner thoughts.

"Thanks," Germany replied.

"I know what will cheer you up!" Italy exclaimed. "Why don't we walk around a little? It's been a while since you've been here." Germany considered the proposal and then nodded. "If it isn't too much trouble," he said. Italy smiled as he stood up and collected their plates.

"It's fine Germany. Just follow me!"

Italy took Germany through most of Venice, walking through the winding streets and over the bridges that spanned the canals. It was all very pretty in the setting sun, all the store and house lights twinkling in the growing dark, but the beauty was lost on Italy. The city had lost its beauty in the Italian's eyes a very long time ago. Now it was just held painful memories.

Eventually they made it back to Italy's house. "Thank you Italy," Germany said. "It was quite lovely."

"Ve- I'm glad you liked it," Italy said happily. They said their good byes and Italy was finally left alone again. "Stupid German," Italy muttered angrily as he made his way back up into his room.

Who did he think he was just casually barging in on Italy's life? He hated being around Germany. He supposed if he'd been anyone else it wouldn't hurt so much.

But he wore _his_ face.

He walked differently and talked differently but he still looked exactly like _him_.

Italy screamed in frustration, violently kicking the door closed. Did he even realize how much pain he made the Italian feel? Italy ripped his jacket off, seething in his own pain. He could barely think straight, the pain growing too great for him. He did have one course of action though. Get rid of the pain.

Italy went into the bathroom and pulled out all the necessary tools. Then he sank to the ground, a shiver running up his spine as he pressed the cool metal against his wrist. There were already several cuts on both his wrists, but Italy couldn't stop. Italy pressed the blade harder against his skin and his mouth twitched as he saw blood begin to seep out of the wound.

It was the only way to get rid of the pain, to get rid of _him_.

**I'm sure all of you know the 'him' Italy is referring to. While I respect the whole 'Holy Rome is really Germany' headcannon I have a different one that will be explained in full near the end of Feli's story. However for context purposes Holy Rome and Germany are _not_ the same person... well not exactly.**

**All will be explained in due time.**

**A lot of the self-hurt stories I've read almost always have Romano cutting which I think is fairly accurate but I also think Italy could be in just as much pain maybe even _more_ pain then Romano so I explored that in his story as you all will soon find out.**

**Hope you lovelies enjoyed your first taste of our little Italian and I'll be back with more tomorrow!**

**See ya later!**


	17. Bearing the Cross Chapter 2

**Hooray just as promised I'm back with the next chapter!**

**Guys... we broke the 100 barrier! *squeals* You all rock! Cookies and OTPs for everyone XD **

**Phew now that my little moment is done I can get back to you guys on some of these reviews (which I absolutely adore reading)**

**xXxEmeraldBluexXx - glad to see some is just as obsessed with USUK as me! And also I'm saying thanks to everyone who liked the romance aspect of USUK though I know I coulda done better :) you'll have to wait another chapter or so before they pop up again but pop up they shall (with lots and lots of fluff too ;) )**

**Animefangirl101 - Thanks about the quick updates thing! I've literally had this story completed and sitting on my computer for months before I was like 'what the hell' and threw it up here so I see no need to do ridiculously long updates and torture all you because of that fact. I hope you like Italy's story! I'm definitely gonna pull at everyone's heartstrings so hopefully I won't make anyone feel too bad**

**Luna7601 and Aquanova dragon - I KNOW THE FEELS! ITALY! IGGY! *breaks down into ugly sobs***

**Sadly *hic* I don't own Hetalia. If I did then I'd make sure HetaOni was *hic* finished and I'd beat the fucking daylights outta Steve on behalf of all fangirls (and boys) Now if you excuse me I'm just gonna go into my emo corner and sob this out so enjoy**

Chapter 2

(Italy)

When Italy woke up he mechanically went about cleaning up the blood on the white tile floor. He remained unfazed by the small pools of blood standing in stark contrast to the bright white. This was quite a normal occurrence after all. He wondered if it happened enough if the blood would seep into the tiles and turn them pink? Who know's?

Throwing the bloody towel in the laundry basket he then proceeded to clean his wrists, frowning a little as the cold water stung against his exposed skin.

He yawned as he walked out of the bathroom, stretching his arms above his head. He didn't immediately put bandages on like he usually did since his arm was still damp and he wanted to air the cuts out a little before suffocating them in white.

Romano was probably back in the country by now if he hadn't stayed over at Spain's place for the night. He knew Romano "claimed" he wasn't sleeping with Spain but Italy had his doubts. Even if Romano had just come straight home he's probably still down at his house down in Naples.

Probably dealing with the Italian mafia leaders down there. Italy didn't quite care to involve himself in his brother's… "activities" as long as they didn't cause any harm to the country or start another war.

At least it meant that Italy could count on another uninterrupted day for him to sleep though.

The Italian was about to have another very vexing day though.

When he came downstairs to grab something he'd left down there yesterday he was surprised to see Spain walk out of the kitchen.

"Hola Feli," he called out helpfully. Italy froze, his mind in panic mode. _Shit, Spain can't see me like this. I don't have anything covering my wrists. Shit, shit, shit, shit that damn bastard! Wait if Spain's here then where is Romano?_

Italy had quickly turned around, already beginning to race up the stairs back to his room. "Hey there fratello. I see you're finally up." Italy turned his head to see Romano standing by the kitchen table eating a tomato.

_How_ had he not seen him before?

He watched Romano's eyes narrow as he saw terror pass over Italy's face, Romano's eyes trailing downward. "…Veneziano?" he asked uncertainly. Italy flew past him and back into his room in less than a breath, slamming the door shut and throwing himself on his bed. Great, just fucking great they'd seen him. Italy sighed.

He thought he'd been so careful around them. Now the probably the whole damn world was going to find out since Spain is even worse at keeping his mouth shut than Italy at times.

Romano and Spain tried to come in and talk to Italy, Romano banging angrily on the door and yelling at his younger brother, but Italy had locked the door and Romano didn't have the key or anything to pick the lock with.

They tried reasoning with him to come out through the door but Italy ignored them.

Eventually they stopped trying to talk with him and everything was finally silent.

…

(Germany)

He was working in his office, stacks of paper by his side that needed to be read and organized.

Thankfully Prussia was out of the house right now doing god knows what, but it left Germany with an empty and more importantly quiet house. He was just beginning to read another report when his cell phone buzzed noisily on his desk.

Glancing at the phone he sighed when he saw it was Spain calling. He was tempted to let it just go to voicemail but as it kept ringing the German sighed and picked it up. "What is it Spain?" he asked tiredly. There was too much work to be down for him to be talking to the other country.

"You have to fly down to Italy right now," Spain told him. Germany narrowed his eyes at Spain's uncharacteristically serious tone.

"Why?" he asked, wondering what could have the normally easy-going country so worked up.

"It's Feli," Spain told him. Now the Spaniard had all of Germany's attention.

"Did he do something?" he asked with a sigh, a thousand possible scenarios running through his head.

"Just get down here right now," Spain said in a clipped tone and then hung up. Germany sighed, still not completely convinced that this was something major. Still though, Italy was his ally and if he was in trouble it was the German's job to help him.

He flew down shortly after Spain's call, his mind getting nervous as he got closer to Italy. He hoped everything was fine and it was just something minor, but some nagging voice in the back of his head told him otherwise.

When he knocked on Italy's door it was Spain who opened it. Germany immediately noted the strained look in Spain's eyes.

So it was serious.

"Thanks for getting here so fast," he said with a sigh of relief, letting Germany inside. Stepping in he could immediately hear Romano cursing upstairs about some matter. It was in Italian though so Germany didn't really try to understand what he was screaming. "What's going on?" Germany asked as Spain closed the door behind him. "Where is Italy?"

"He's locked himself in his room," Spain said with a sigh as he sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. "Lovino has been trying to get him to come out for most of the day, but he won't listen."

"Why has he locked himself in his room?" the German asked, mystified. Spain's eyes narrowed as he looked at the table.

"Well the thing is we don't exactly know," he confessed. "I didn't get a very good look at him when he first came down this morning but Lvi saw it pretty well. I think Feli has been... cutting himself." Spain stopped there, letting the information sink into the stunned German's mind.

Italy was… cutting? How could this be though? Italy was one of the happiest nations Germany had ever encountered.

Certainly he couldn't be doing… _that_ to himself.

Germany wasn't convinced; he needed to see Italy for himself. "Let me see him," he ordered Spain. Spain nodded and showed Germany to the stairs. From there he followed the string of Italian curses floating down the hall until he saw Romano sagging against the door. Romano looked up as Germany approached. Germany readied himself for the verbal assault the nation always unleashed on him whenever they saw each other but not this time.

He could see the look of defeat in the nation's stance, the dull fear in his eyes.

He stood aside as Germany walked up to the door and produced a silver key. He had made a point of making a copy of all of Italy's keys in the event that he did something ridiculous and Germany had to get into one of the nation's rooms.

As soon as the door opened Romano scurried inside past Germany and a cursing match immediately ensued. Germany entered hesitantly and came to a halt as he watched the scene in front of him play out.

Romano and Italy were standing in the center of the room, Romano gripping Italy's shoulders tightly and shaking him a little. Italy was staring pointedly at the ground, not meeting Romano's eyes.

"You fucking idiot. What have you been doing to yourself? Do you think this?" he grabbed Italy's arm and pulled it up. To Germany's horror he saw dozens of slashes across Italy's pale skin, too many for him to count in one look. "Do you think this is fucking okay? What the fuck is wrong with you fratello?"

Italy looked at his brother now, narrowing his eyes. "Fuck off," he shot back angrily, pulling his hand out of Romano's grasp.

Germany was stunned to hear the Italian swear. Unlike Romano, who swore every other word, Germany had never heard Italy swear at all. And his voice sounded different too! It was as deep and rude as Romano's but there was an edge to his voice as well. Was this really the Italy Germany had formed an alliance with all those years ago?

_Who… who is this person?_ Germany thought.

"This is none of your damn business," Italy told him flatly. Romano took an uncertain step back, taken off guard by Italy's tone.

"Are you fucking kidding me? I am your _brother_, all of this is my business!" Romano screamed. Italy sighed, clearly irritated with his brother.

"Just go back home Romano. Take that tomato loving bastard Spain with you too." Romano's eyes widened in shock as he stood there and looked at his brother. Then to Germany's surprise Romano gave up. "Fine, it's not like I care what happens to you or anything anyways," Romano muttered angrily before walking out past Germany. Behind him he could hear Romano telling Spain that they were heading to his place.

Italy sighed and turned towards the door to close it. He stopped though when he finally noticed Germany awkwardly standing there, his eyes widening in surprise before narrowing angrily at him.

"Oh great, you're back," Italy said dryly. "I'm guessing you've been standing there a while?" he presumed. Germany gave a short nod, still unsure of what to say to this foreign person inhabiting the body of his ally. Italy sighed.

"Well at least it saves me the trouble of having to lie to your face anymore. If you're going to say something then spit it out." Germany watched him cross his arms over his slim chest, waiting for him to speak. "Why?" Germany managed to get out. Italy smirked at him.

"It's none of your damn business and even if it was I still wouldn't tell you. Is that it? In that case you should just follow Romano out the door and go back home." Germany was again taken aback by Italy's sudden personality change. As Germany stood there, debating about what to do next the Italian grew progressively angrier.

"I said it nicely once, don't make me repeat myself," Italy told Germany darkly. Germany backed away uncertainly, driven back by the Italian's hard eyes. Maybe he should go back home, at least until he came up with a strategy to fix Italy.

He backed away a bit more before exiting the room and walking down the stairs. He put his hand on the front door and stopped.

What was he doing?

Was he seriously retreating from a problem?

He gripped the door handle tighter as his anger started to come forth. No matter how the Italian sounded now, Italy was still his ally. He could not just abandon his ally, not like this.

Germany sighed as his hand fell to his side. He looked back over his shoulder at the staircase leading to Italy's room.

Whether Italy like it or not Germany was staying, no matter what.

**Alright, I'm back. Did you enjoy it the Italian screaming match?**

**Now don't get all mad at Romano for just leaving Italy like that! I honestly see his character as just simply not knowing what to do in that situation and so when Italy insults not only him but Spain as well Romano retreats to his anger because it's all he really knows, and lets that make the decision for him. So don't hate on Romano, he's just hurt and angry and confused and just doesn't know what to do. So he's gonna dump it on Germany instead because he internally knows Germany can take care of Italy though he'd never admit it out loud.**

**Alright sorry for the rant but Romano is just one of my absolute favorite characters so I won't stand for anyone putting him down for his actions.**

**So while Romano and Spain are leaving Germany is going to stay put. Lets just say the atmosphere will be anything but pleasant.**

**As always reviews are amazingly awesome and always welcomed with open arms!**

**See you all later!**

**Oh ALMOST forgot! I'm putting another story out to update alongside this one. It's called A Blast From the Past and involves chibi America, Canada and Germany because we all know that Prussia + beer + a stolen magic book always ends up well ;)**

**Lots of humor as opposed to what you're reading now and of course a little romance thrown in cause I just can't seem to stop. So if you need a break then go check it out and tell me what you think!**

**Alright now I'm really done this time, I swear!**


	18. Bearing the Cross Chapter 3

**Hey guys sorry about missing my update by about... 54 minutes at this point but I've had a hectic day what with being told that I was suddenly going to my grandparent's house without any prior knowledge. It was for their 50th anniversary though so all was forgiven. I'll also post the chapter that is assigned for today as usual sometime later in the day after I do that annoying thing called sleeping and interacting with... people *shudders*.**

**Yea... so remember when I said Al and Arthur would be making their way back in? Well... they're back ahead of schedule (mainly because I'm lazy and don't preread the next chapter before talking to you guys ;) ) **

**Guys your comments are fantastically amazing so I'm just gonna answer a few real quick:**

**ForgetfulMangoes - I'm glad you like the way Italy and Holy Rome are being written into the story! I really wanted to dig deep into the hidden parts of Italy that we normally just don't see through his sunny smile and shed some light on why Italy is the way he is.**

**To the random guest - Dude it's okay I'm not gonna kill you for not shipping USUK (unless you ship FrUK *pulls out my AK-47*) lol jk even though USUK is my OTP I like some of their other pairings like RusAme so don't think I'm gonna hate you for not shipping them :)**

**LinkeyOkumura37 - I'm glad you understand what I was trying to say with Romano. I just couldn't have anyone putting him down as being an insensitive prick or something. And I'm happy you like Italy talking like a normal person! I mean, I know Italy is a little bit of a space cadet, but even they can speak normally!**

**Alright I think I've kept you all here long enough or maybe some of you have just ignored me and skipped down to the story but in either case enjoy!**

Chapter 3

(Italy)

He had locked the door after Germany had supposedly left and gone back into the bathroom, the pain of fighting with his older brother and seeing _him_ again being too much for Italy to handle. Besides how much difference was there with ten more scars?

Eventually he came out of his room, fresh cuts on both wrists. He went downstairs in his blue military pants and his black tank top. He didn't bother putting his jacket on since he believed that everyone had finally left.

So it was a big surprise for the Italian when he came down and saw Germany doing work at the kitchen table. He looked up and Italy watched his face pale as he saw the fresh red marks. If his life already wasn't hell then Germany staying indefinitely at his house definitely was.

"What the hell are you still doing here?" Italy asked, his shock quickly being replaced by anger. "Didn't I tell you to get out of my house already?" Germany nodded.

"Ja you did, and I will but only after you return to normal."

"I am normal you bastard. The Italy you knew never existed in the first place," Italy shot back, trying to make the other nation angry. His remark made the German flinch slightly but it seemed to only make him more determined.

"Maybe so, but we won't know that until I'm done here," Germany said flatly. He had seemed to reach his patience with the Italian. "Now if you excuse me, I still have work to get done," he said dismissively and turned back to his work. Italy watched him, fuming.

Who gave him the right to act like the boss in his house? Italy stormed back up into his room, slamming the door shut behind him. Fine if the bastard wanted to stay he could, but there was no way Italy was going to let him "fix" him.

…

(Germany)

Germany sighed as he rested the report against the table.

He hadn't meant to be so rude with Italy, but the nation had tried his patience and he had snapped back. He looked at the staircase, his thoughts wandering. He had no idea how to act around Italy anymore. He had no idea how to handle him.

Did he just have to sit back and gently guide Italy, or did he need to drag him? Germany sighed. Before planning on how to fix Italy, he had to get the nation to simply stop cursing him when he saw him first. Germany sighed again, his head hurting. Germany wasn't used to being in such a situation.

He almost would have preferred war.

He realized that he didn't have any expertise with this kind of situation so, putting his pride aside, he convinced Spain and Romano to come back and look after Italy while he took a trip up to England. It was clear to the German that England had just dealt with something similar with America, so perhaps he could give Germany some advice.

Germany frowned as he walked up to England's door, preparing to knock. He hated having to ask other nations for help, but this was Italy and he needed him, so he'd do whatever he needed to. He knocked hard on the door and waited patiently. Nobody came to the door and Germany wondered nervously if England wasn't here after all.

As he was about to turn back he heard a noise from the house and then the door opened, revealing Scotland. Germany was surprised to see the older nation since he never came to any of the World Meetings. He and the rest of his brothers let England do the talking for them usually._ Why are you surprised to see him?_ He thought to himself. After all England was his little brother, it was only natural for them to visit each other's houses.

He was as tall as Germany with unusually messy auburn hair and the same green eyes as England, though a little darker and had the trademark Kirkland eyebrows. He was smoking a cigar as he looked at Germany with dull curiosity.

"You just gonna stand there all day?" Scotland asked, leaning against the door frame. Germany shook his head.

"No I am here to see England," he said. Scotland smirked.

"Well England said for no one to disturb him, but I guess you can come in." Germany was uncertain.

"Well if he's busy right now I can come back later. It's really not that important," Germany said haltingly. Scotland smirked some more.

"Oh in that case I absolutely _insist_ you come in and see England," he said and nearly shoved Germany inside. Once inside Scotland led Germany through England's house. Germany tried his best to breathe without coughing through the smoky haze thrown in his face by Scotland's cigar. Scotland still had that smirk on his face from the front door as they stopped in front of a new door and Scotland stuck his head inside.

"Allistor what are you doing?" Germany heard England complain. "I told you I didn't want to be bothered today."

"Don't worry little brother," Scotland said. "I'm just popping in to tell you I'll be leaving as soon as I finish up my monthly report. I'll have it waiting on your desk."

"Thank god," England said in relief. Germany could tell from their conversation that the brothers weren't very close. "When you're done don't forget to open a bloody window," England reminded him. "I can't the stench of your stupid cigars." Scotland smiled.

"I'll make sure to leave them shut closed then," he taunted. "By the way, Germany's here to see you."

"Wh-what?" England asked. "Wait, Allistor what did you say?" He backed out into the hallway and gave Germany a wink before disappearing down the hall. Germany carefully stuck his head inside the door where Scotland had just been. "Sorry for interrupting your work…" he started to say before trailing off.

England was sitting on the floor and leaning against the couch with a Wii remote in his hands. On the TV on the far wall Germany could see that a Mario Kart match going on. He looked back at England and was surprised to see America spread out on the couch above England. He'd been so quiet Germany hadn't noticed him the first time around.

He was wearing sweats and a white tee shirt with the American flag on it, the white bandages on his wrists clearly visible. He also had a Wii remote in his hands and looked upset that the game had been paused. England sighed and leaned his head back, pressing it against America's arm. "Good morning," England told Germany from his position on the ground, his face completely red. "Come in."

Germany came in and stood in the room awkwardly, not knowing where to sit. England looked pointedly at America. America sighed and then retracted his legs, leaving space on the couch. "You can sit down," England said politely and Germany sat down where America's feet had just been. "This is quite unexpected," England said as he turned to face him, his face all business now.

"Is there something you need Germany?" he asked. Germany looked at his hands, not knowing where to start.

"Well, it's um Italy," he told them. "He's in a bit of a situation and I was wondering if I could get some… advice from the two of you." England and America exchanged a surprised look.

"I'm not very good friends with Italy," England confessed. "I don't know how much help I'd be. What's wrong with him?" Germany looked back at his hands.

"Well, it seems that he's in a situation similar to the one America had recently been in," he told them.

"I thought as much." Germany glanced up to see America nodding to himself.

"What are you talking about Alfred?" England asked curiously. America sighed, his eyes growing dark.

"See I talked with Italy two months or so ago. And when we talked I saw that he was going through the same thing I was," he told them. "I didn't really think to tell anyone about it at the time," he confessed, looking down at his hands.

"Alfred…" England said gently. America shook his head.

"It's okay Arthur," he assured him. "I've been doing really well remember? Besides, this doesn't involve any of my own past so it's okay."

"Well, alright then," England said uncertainly.

America looked up and met Germany's eyes and Germany braced himself for the story.

**And this is where we'll leave until the next chapter is posted. Yeah I know, I have at cliffhangers, probably the worst one I've ever written *shudders***

**I didn't even try to attempt Scotland's accent seeing as I have no idea how the pronunciation would even sound to write it in the first place. He's only here for this chapter though so no biggy. I also thought Germany's accent would get in the way of what he's saying so you guys can just imagine how it sounds with his accent :)**

**So Iggy and America are definitely sticking around for the next chapter and possible the chapter after before fading into the background for a little bit. Don't worry, I saved you guys a ton of fluff for the next chapter XD**

**Tell me ya'll think whether it be good or bad!**

**I'll see you guys later today! **


	19. Bearing the Cross Chapter 4

**Hey guys, long time no see ;)**

**I actually don't have anything so really post up here so Imma just gonna let you get to the story now.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 4

(America)

He took a deep breath before recounting the events of that day.

_It had been during a World Meeting. Germany had called a break and as usual America had disappeared to drink some alcohol before sitting through the rest of the meeting. America had gone out to the courtyard, figuring that everyone would be eating in the cafeteria. _

_He was surprised though to see Italy and Germany sitting on a bench outside eating their lunches. They didn't seem to notice him and America frowned as he moved a little off to the side, hoping they'd finish soon so that he could be alone. _

_Eventually Germany finished his meal and after talking for a little bit with Italy he said that he was going to head back inside to prepare for the final half of the meeting. "Ve- I'll see you in there," Italy said happily as Germany walked away. America had been watching them, growing angrier at the seemingly joyous country. America wondered angrily how he could be so happy and oblivious all the time._

_ America's anger immediately faded though as he saw Italy's smile drop and he narrowed his eyes angrily in the direction Germany had left._

_ "Stupid potato-loving bastard," Italy spat angrily before getting up and dumping his half-eaten food in the trash. He started to walk towards the door when he noticed America gaping at him. His eyes widened in surprise before he smiled widely at America. _

_"Ve- America I didn't see you there!" Italy said happily, trying to erase the nervousness in his voice. America felt himself smile. He could see all the pain in Italy's eyes. So there was someone out there who was suffering just as much as him. _

_"Some advice from someone who knows," America said darkly. Italy immediately stopped smiling and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him. "If you want to fool__ the rest of them, try learning how to smile a little more naturally." He smirked at Italy's surprise as he drained the moon shine from his flask. _

_"Jus saying," he slurred before walking back into the building._

"I had no idea any of that had happened," Germany said, stunned. He could remember what America talking about but had had no idea Italy had said those things after he'd left.

_A potato bastard huh_, he thought to himself.

It was the same thing Romano always called him. England nodded in agreement, his face nervous. America looked down worriedly at England. "I'm sorry about that," he said more to England than Germany. "I didn't want you to worry about me more than you already do." England shook his head.

"Stop it, I'm fine." England snapped causing America's cheeks to turn red. "So Italy's going through something like you huh," he said aloud. He turned to Germany.

"I think I understand the situation a bit better now. What questions do you need me to answer?"

"How did you handle it?" Germany asked. "What did you do to make him stop?"

"Well, it depends on each person," England said, glancing up at America. "For Alfred I just really let him know I was there for him no matter what." America was staring at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused. "So you used a gentle approach?" Germany asked.

"Well… yes I suppose you could call it that," England said. America's eyes narrowed but he refused to say anything.

"Well thank you," Germany told England sincerely. He was starting to form a strategy in his head that would hopefully work. England looked surprised to see the blond nation stand up. "I don't really see how I was of much help," England said uncertainly. "Like I said, everyone is different. Italy may need something very different than what I said."

"Still, it's more than I could have come up with," Germany conceded. England nodded.

"Well then, if you have any more questions just stop by anytime." Germany nodded and walked out of the room, closing the door mostly behind him. He was just beginning to walk away when he heard a commotion come from inside. He couldn't help but back up a little and listen in.

"Alfred dammit that controller was new!" England exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, I was just holding it," he muttered. Germany heard England sigh.

"You crushed the bloody thing in your palm," he complained.

"Sorry," America mumbled. He heard shuffling noises and carefully looked into the room through the slit in the door.

England had scrambled onto the couch beside America, the remains of the wii remote scattered on the ground. America was sitting with his knees to his chest, not looking at England. "Alfred what's wrong?" England asked worriedly. "Don't tell me that memory did bring something up." He grabbed America's hands but America still didn't look at him.

"No it's not that," America mumbled.

"Then what is it?" England asked. America glanced at England before looking away.

"Oh," England said, recognition dawning on him. He moved closer to America. "It was what I said wasn't it? The 'gentle approach'?" America didn't say anything but England's words had clearly hit the mark. "You know I don't regret it," he said gently. America looked up in surprise.

"But… I thought…" he trailed off uncertainly. England shook his head. America looked like he was on the brink of tears.

"In my long life there are a few things that I regret," he said. "But none of them have ever had to do with you. I don't regret that and I don't regret _this_." He grabbed America's hand as he spoke and intertwined their fingers. America looked at England and then without warning he used his hand to drag England towards him, opening up his legs and then using them to encase England.

"What the bloody hell?" England gasped, his face red as he leaned against America's chest. America smiled and nuzzled England's shoulder.

"Thanks Iggy," he said. England softened as he looked up at America.

"Alfred…"

Germany chose to walk away then, not wanting to intrude on their private moment any longer.

His cheeks were blazing as he walked out of England's house and down the street. He was happy to see the two nations getting along so well after all those years of unspoken animosity in the World Meetings. Still Germany felt like an intruder, seeing the complete trust and unconditional love in each other.

Their relationship almost reminded him of how he and Italy used to be.

Germany paused now, his face turning the shade of a tomato. _No, that didn't come out right_, he thought frantically. He just meant that he cared for Italy, but certainly not in _that_ capacity.

**Oh Germany stop denying it, we all know the truth ;)**

**Sorry this chapter is so short guys but on the bright side we'll be returning to Feli!**

**Yeah I don't know why but I just can't find a lot to talk about today... weird...**

**Anyways I love reading your guys' reviews so keep sending them!**

**See you lovelies later :)**


	20. Bearing the Cross Chapter 5

**Hey guys back with the next chapter! I'm sorry this one is so short though :( I think it's the shortest chapter I've ever written!**

**School is gonna be starting up soon for me so these updates may start coming every other day while I'm getting adjusted to school life again but I'm gonna try and keep on schedule!**

**Dudes your reviews are awesome! I feel like I'm repeating myself every time I say this but these comments seriously make my day happy and let me know how I'm doing so I really appreciate each one I get!**

**pastaadict - Yeah it would be nice if the gentle approach worked, but then again it'd be too easy. You'll see how Germany's approach works out in this chapter!**

**JustAGirlThatShipsSpamanoHard - I'm glad I'm making you have second thoughts on these characters! It was kinda a big reason why I wrote this fic in the first place cause I wanted to show the sides of Al and Feli that you just don't think exist.**

**NamiLuvsAllFFics - It's okay for not knowing, that's why I'm here! Yes the 'he' Italy keeps referring to is Holy Rome. The reason Italy hates Germany for looking like HRE is because it keeps reminding Italy that HRE is dead and of the life they could have possibly had together had he survived and returned back to Italy. Hope that cleared up any confusion you or anyone else had! I have Italy explain himself a bit more later on in the story so if this didn't help then maybe that chapter will!**

**Alright you know the drill, I'll see you at the bottom!**

Chapter 5

(Germany)

He decided to try the gentler approach first, letting Italy be and trying not to upset him.

Whenever Italy came down Germany would attempt to make small talk, causing the nation to start cursing him madly before retreating upstairs again. Italy got into the habit of coming down in outfits that left his wrists exposed to hurt him. Germany refrained from talking about it, but inside it hurt him to see all the tiny slashes across his slim wrists.

He tried making food for the Italian, but Italy never seemed to be hungry.

Germany would leave the hot food outside his door and return back a few hours later and pick up the cold, untouched dish and put it in the sink. He'd ask if Italy wanted to come out and train with him like they used to, but Italy refused every time.

Eventually a week passed and Germany was growing impatient with Italy. Why couldn't he just realize that Germany was trying to do what was in his best interest? Why couldn't he let whatever demons haunted him go?

Germany decided that it was time to go with the rougher approach.

…

(Italy)

Germany was causing Italy to go insane.

It was bad enough that his every moment was haunted by memories of his past, but then that stupid bastard had to keep reminding him of the life that had been ripped away from him.

Italy had increased the amount of cuts on his arm, the German downstairs unknowingly pushing Italy to the edge.

Italy had become used to the routine of going downstairs and seeing Germany sitting at the kitchen table. He'd try to get Italy to talk civilized and he would shout back insults at Germany before concluding his business and scurrying back upstairs.

This afternoon though, Germany wasn't sitting in his usual spot. Italy's eyes narrowed, his suspicion immediately heightened.

"Ah, Italy there you are," Germany said as he stepped through the doorway leading from the kitchen. Italy frowned at him, refusing to return the pleasantry.

"What do you want?" he asked suspiciously. "What are you planning?"

"I was planning on having us go out and train together," Germany told him. Italy crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

"We've already been over this. I'll pass on the stupid training." Germany shook his head and Italy could see a new edge in the nations blue eyes.

"I wasn't asking you whether you wanted to come along or not," he told Italy. "We're going out to train. Go put on your clothes." Italy shook his head angrily.

"You're not forcing me to go outside, bastardo," he retorted. Then quite suddenly Germany was dragging Italy through the house. Italy tried to fight back, but Germany had always been too strong for him.

Germany sat the cursing Italian down in one of the chairs and kept Italy put while putting on his shoes. "Honestly Italy," Germany said with a sigh. "When are you going to learn how to tie your own shoes?" This caused Italy to stop cursing for a moment, his cheeks turning pink.

"You stupid bastard! I can tie my shoes just fine!" Italy shouted. To prove his point he yanked his foot out of Germany's hand and tied the laces in a matter of seconds. Italy felt a dark glee when he saw Germany's shocked face, but then he was surprised when Germany smiled at him.

"Good, see you're almost ready to go," he said and then forced Italy to put on his military jacket. Italy fumed while his arms were put through the sleeves and the jacket buttoned up. How could he have been so stupid to let Germany play him like that? He was still fuming as Germany forced him outside.

"Come on now. We'll do ten laps around," Germany told Italy, holding his hand.

"Wha-" Italy began to say but was cut off as Germany started running, pulling Italy along with him. Italy stumbled along beside him, trying desperately to slip out of the German's grasp.

But Germany only gripped Italy's hand harder, causing Italy to turn red as he cursed Germany in every language he knew.

**Alright so the gentle approach didn't work so Germany's gonna try something else now, lets see how that one goes...**

**Did anyone else see the HetaOni reference in there? It's not the same as in the game but it still made me tear up when I wrote it, cookies and tissues for those of you who caught it!**

**Alright so get ready for some major feels next chapter. I preread it and I was like... shit it's _that_ chapter... so yeah get those tissues ready tomorrow**

**On that cliffhanger a/n I bid you adieu!**


	21. Bearing the Cross Chapter 6

**Heya guys I'm back with the latest chapter!**

**There is literally about 48 between me and school *shudders* god where did summer go?!**

**Anyways I'm glad all of you are loving Italy's story so much! And I'm so, so sorry about the HetaOni references but they're gonna keep coming and this chapter is probably the worst. *Grabs a year's supply of tissues and lots of ice cream* I brought the cavalry with me for this chapter so feel free to grab some before you start reading.**

**If you haven't played HetaOni then PLAY IT but you will lose your sanity or whatever you have left of it anyways. It's a fan-made game and it's seriously amazing though it leaves you with the worst cliffhanger in all of history and some wicked major feels.**

**Alright so now that I have given you all fair warning feel free to read and of course tell me all about it later!**

Chapter 6

(Germany)

He was glad that he'd finally managed to get Italy outside. Though Italy fought him the entire time, they eventually finished their ten laps and came back in. Germany wasn't done meddling with Italy yet though.

He forced Italy to sit down while he cooked dinner and together they sat down to pasta and wurst. Italy poked at his food a little, his eyes staring pointedly at the table. "Come on Italy, just eat it. I know you love pasta," Germany said as he watched Italy.

"I'm not hungry," he said flatly, not even glancing up. Germany sighed, already having finished his own meal.

"Well you can't leave until you eat at least half of it," Germany threatened as he got up to put his meal away. While he was in the kitchen he stumbled across a closet that had a bunch of cleaning equipment in there. Germany had been wanting to clean the house for a while and was glad to have finally could some tools to use.

He searched around in the closet until he found an old deck brush pushed off into the corner. Curious, he grabbed it and brought it out. Germany could tell that it was old, nothing like this had been made in quite a long time. It was small, probably to be used by a child, but it was big enough that Germany could use it. Strangely he felt as if he had seen something like this somewhere. He couldn't quite remember but he felt strangely nostalgic holding it.

Germany shook off the strange feelings though. It was just a deck brush and nothing more.

He decided to start by the kitchen table so he could keep an eye on Italy. When he walked in Italy didn't notice him. He was staring intensely at the cold pasta in front of him, an internal debate going on in his head. Germany looked down and began to sweep.

As the brush hit the floor Germany heard a strangled yelp and looked up in surprise.

Italy was sitting on the edge of his chair, his eyes fixated on the deck brush in Germany's hands. Italy looked up and Germany could see the raw pain in the country's eyes as their eyes met. Suddenly Italy sprang up and snatched the deck brush out of Germany's hands. Germany let it go without a fight, his eyes watching Italy as he clutched the deck brush tightly to his chest, his whole body shaking.

It looked like he wanted to break down into tears but there were none in Italy's eyes as he looked up at Germany. Instead there was such pain and anger in his eyes that Germany took an involuntary step back. He realized quickly that he had overstepped some line.

"…You…" Italy said, his voice shaking like crazy. "… Don't you dare touch this!" he screeched, his shaking increasing.

Then he vanished up the stairs, leaving Germany reeling.

…

(Italy)

Italy scrambled into his room, the door slamming shut behind him. His whole body was shaking uncontrollably, his scattered thoughts all over the place.

He stumbled onto his bed and let out a strangled cry, the deck brush still clutched in his hands. It was painful enough just being in Germany's presence, but for him to be holding _his_ deck brush had been too much for Italy to handle. The very sight of it in his hands brought all the painful memories back. They overwhelmed his mind and drove him insane.

"Holy… Rome," Italy cried muffled by the pillows before his mind succumbed to the darkness.

_When he woke up he was lying in a meadow of tall grass and yellow flowers. He didn't bother getting up though. It was so peaceful here. He felt that he could just lie here forever._

_ "Italy!" a voice called out. Italy didn't sit up to see where the voice was coming from. _

_Italy wondered who the voice belonged to. It felt so familiar to him. _

_"Italy!" the voice called again, much closer this time. Italy knew that voice. Somewhere in the back of his mind the connection was made and he felt his eyes widen in recognition as a shadow blocked out the sun above him, casting a shadow. _

_Italy lifted his head, his eyes widening as he looked at the man standing before him. "Holy… Rome…" Italy breathed. _

_Holy Rome smiled, his blue eyes glowing. "It's been a long time Italy," he said. He extended his hand and Italy took it, bringing him to his feet._

_ Italy realized with a start that they were both wearing the same exact clothes as that fateful day. Holy Rome was clad __in a black hat and matching cloak. Underneath his cloak, he wore a long black tunic, and tan-colored breeches. Italy was wearing the maid's dress Austria used to make him wear as a child while he worked in his house. Italy felt over-joyed to see Holy Rome again. _

_"I told you I'd keep my promise," Holy Rome said with a smile. His statement caused Italy to frown though. There was something he was missing. As he continued to look at Holy Rome the memories started to flow back. His sight blurred and he blinked rapidly, tears streaming down his face. "_

_Italy what's wrong?" Holy Rome asked, stepping closer to him. _

_"You… you didn't keep your promise," Italy said brokenly._

_"__Of course I did!" he reassured him. "I told you that I'd come back one day, and here I am. We can finally be together like we wanted!" Italy shook his head, the tears falling faster now._

_"__This isn't real," he said. "France… France killed you a long time ago. Yo-you never came back to me." Italy's entire body was shaking. He froze though as he felt Holy Rome's hand come up and wipe away his tears. He couldn't help pressing his cheek against his hand, the feel of him was intoxicating, but it just filled Italy with more pain. "Italy please stop crying," Holy Rome asked. Italy shook his head._

_"__I-I can't," he said though his tears. Holy Rome sighed gently and then Italy was enveloped in his black cloak, his strong arms wrapping around Italy._

_ Italy grasped at Holy Rome and held him tightly, silently begging for him to never leave his arms again. However, fate had never been kind to the Italian._

_"It seems that our time in almost up," Holy Rome said to a horrified Italy. "Italy… it was good to see you again," Holy Rome told him. Italy held back a sob as Holy Rome began to fade away. Italy gripped him tighter, his whole body shaking._

_ "No, please don't leave me again," he sobbed against Holy Rome's rapidly fading shoulder. He felt Holy Rome's grip tighten around him._

_ "You know I'd stay if I could," he said gently. "But like you said, I'm dead. Listen to me Italy; I'm still keeping my promise to you. I may look different when we meet again, but I will return to you. I promise." _

_And with that Holy Rome faded completely. Shaking uncontrollably, Italy fell to his knees. A dark cloud passed over the sun, casting a dark shadow everywhere. Italy hugged himself tightly. _

_"__HOLY ROME!"_

Italy woke up with a start. Touching his face he felt the wetness of tears underneath his fingertips.

_I'm crying_, he thought vaguely to himself as he began to shake.

"Holy Rome," Italy whispered as he broke down into hysterical sobs. It had happened again! He'd been ripped right out of Italy's hands yet again!

How many times would Italy have to lose the love of his life?

"Why!" he screamed, suddenly angry. "Why did you take him from me! France! Give him back to me France!"

Italy could no longer form coherent thoughts after that and sank into the depths of his despair, one hand still clutching the deck brush while the other reached for the knife…

**Yeah... I went there...**

**If you guys are wondering why Italy has Holy Rome's deck brush it's a part of my headcannon. So I think that after France 'killed' Holy Rome in the 30 Years War he personally left to go and break the news to Italy who was still waiting for HRE to come back like they'd promised. France figured that Italy wouldn't believe him since HRE had seemed so strong so he gave Italy his deck brush which Italy knew he'd never willingly give up. This is what convinced Italy that HRE was really dead and he's never been able to part with it since it's in essence a symbol of their promise. Italy blames France for HRE's death which is why he was screaming about France up above.**

**Alright so hopefully by now people who've understood the HetaOni references above have recovered enough to at least see and type properly so send me a review about it! **

**Alright see you guys later!**


	22. Bearing the Cross Chapter 7

**Yeah next chapter baby!**

**I'm sorry but I couldn't help laughing at your comments (I'm so evil aren't I)****! It was either that or breaking into tears so I chose the former. Rejoice though because that was the chapter with the biggest amount of feels in them (at least in my opinion) so they'll hopefully be coming in more manageable doses.**

**This chapter's really short, it's more like a filler chapter before things pick back up again so I apologize for it.**

Chapter 7

(Germany)

He stood outside Italy's door, his heart breaking as he heard the cries of despair coming from the other side of the door. He wanted to barge in and demand to know what was wrong, but he knew it was the wrong thing to do. He knew that if he came in there, Italy might do something drastic.

He wondered what could be causing Italy so much pain. He felt frustrated that there seemed to be nothing he could do to help his friend. He had been surprised though to hear Italy scream France's name. What could France have to do with this?

He realized that as he was thinking Italy had gotten very quiet. Too quiet. Germany felt worry spring up in his chest.

_Italy had probably just gone back to sleep_ he reasoned, but he couldn't get rid of the sense of dread in his stomach. He quickly unlocked the door, his hands shaking slightly. When he flicked on the lights he saw that Italy wasn't in his room anymore. Germany looked around for the nation and then realized the door to his bathroom was open.

Cautiously he flicked on the lights and to his horror he saw Italy crumpled on the ground in a growing pool of blood. He had passed out, one hand still loosely holding the knife while the other gripped the handle of the deck brush tightly.

Germany put his growing horror to the side as he grabbed bandages from the medicine cabinet and wrapped Italy's wrists to stop the bleeding. His body just went on autopilot. Sure he'd seen his fair share of blood and gore from countless wars, but there was something different about seeing Italy bleeding. The sight holy unsettled him to his very core and he vowed right then and there that he'd stop Italy from hurting himself like this, no matter what.

Afterwards he carefully lifted the younger nation up, once again surprised and worried at how light and frail he'd become, and carried him back into his bedroom, depositing him down on the bed. He watched Italy bring the deck brush to his chest, gripping it as if his very life depended on it.

Germany went back into the bathroom to clean up the blood on the white tiles, the cloth covered in blood when he was through cleaning. He closed the door to Italy's room behind him and went downstairs. He didn't think Italy would try anything more tonight.

Still though…

Germany sank down into the chair with a heavy sigh. He realized now that the situation had gotten quite out of hand.

Instead of helping Italy, Germany realized that he'd been testing Italy's patience, and this had been the result.

His eyes itched but he didn't cry. Crying wouldn't help Italy.

He decided that he needed to go back to England and ask him for some more advice. Perhaps he could ask America some questions too. He couldn't just leave Italy here all by himself though. Taking his phone out of his pocket he dialed a number.

He heard it ring once, twice…

"Hello?" Germany let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Ah yes, Japan I was wondering if you could come to Italy's place and give me a hand. It seems I'm in a bit of a situation."

…

Germany tried to explain what was happening to the best of his ability. Thank god for Japan's clear thinking though.

He barely had to say anything before Japan assured him that he was getting on the first flight to Italy this morning. He arrived later that afternoon. "Ah Japan," Germany said. "Thank you for getting here so soon." Japan nodded as he stepped inside. He was wearing his white naval uniform as usual.

"When you told me Italy was doing something like that I knew I had to come as quickly as possible. Where is Italy anyways?" Germany sighed.

"He's in his room, still sleeping I hope. It was very rough for the both of us last night." Japan nodded.

"So where are you going to?" he asked curiously.

"I'm traveling up to England's place. I think that he's the only one who can answer any of my questions."

"Ah, I understand. America has just gone through something similar." Japan said. "I still cannot believe he has been hiding something like that for all this time," he added quietly. Germany nodded. He knew that Japan and America were good friends which was quite surprising. It seemed that the American was exceptional at attracting opposites together.

He had been both surprised and upset when America's secret was revealed. At least Germany assumed that he'd been upset. Even after so many years of knowing the man, Germany still couldn't see past those emotionless eyes into his inner thoughts. "Tell him I say hello," Japan said with a small smile. Germany nodded.

"Ja, I will tell him. Please keep an eye on Italy for me while I'm gone."

"I will do everything I can," Japan said seriously.

"Be warned though. The Italy upstairs isn't the Italy you have become accustomed to," Germany warned. Japan narrowed his brown eyes slightly.

"I will keep that in mind."

**Alright so Japan has been brought in! Sadly though this fic revolves around Germany and Italy's relationship so I kinda made Japan the awkward third wheel that's gonna disappear in a chapter. Sorry bout that for those of you who love Japan!**

**That's right people, I'm squeezing in even more USUK (I just can't stop, it's seriously become a problem like someone help!) so expect to see Al and Arthur in the next chapter!**

**Don't forget to review on your way out!**

**Okay so I'll see you all tomorrow! **


	23. Bearing the Cross Chapter 8

**Hi guys I'm here!**

**I'm sorry about not posting this chapter up yesterday but I was legit up till 11:30 doing Lit homework so you can kinda understand why I chose sleep over posting yesterday. But homework wasn't so bad today so here I am!**

**Wow you guys were all a bunch of chatty-cathies while I was away! I'll take a quick moment to answer some of these guys:**

**The Amazing Fiesta Queen - Gah I don't wanna be a murderer! I'm too young! lol I'll try and keep up with my everyday updates but school is back in session so I'm not going to make any promises. You'll just have to find another way to survive!**

**pastaadict - Don't worry I got a little France/Italy scene towards the end that may make your heart melt a little ;) Sadly though Japan isn't going to be making much headway in the story :( He's kinda all like ' Hi, Bye!' in this story.**

**SomethingSimsy - Woah I got a lot of comments from you so I thought I'd take the time to explain myself. Sorry that this is kinda long. I know putting in the thing about the shooting was dark and probably made some people uncomfortable, but that's why I put the warning up in the chapters that mentioned it. I also made sure to be very vague about it when possible. I just needed something that I thought would deeply effect Alfred and that was the first event to come to mind and it really stuck with me. I want to make it clear that I have nothing but respect and sympathy for all those affected and if I offended anyone with it I am seriously sorry. TBH there are a lot darker things on this site than what I put up but I'm not using it as an excuse for my own writing.**

**No not EVERYTHING is England's fault and I don't hate Iggy! I love writing him and working with his character! I mean he played a hand in the beginning of Al's story but there were a lot of other outside forces that made Alfred end up where he did. I just wanted to create some sympathy for Alfred since it seems everywhere I go I see fics of Alfred being the one who wronged Arthur and I just don't think that is entirely true. And of course Al and Mattie are close, they're brothers! Even if Mattie is still a British colony and they were forced to fight each other, I don't think they ever stopped being brothers and caring about each other. **

**Technically, I don't believe that Al is the only nation to suffer PTSD, he's just the one I focused on and tried to show _his _views on the other nations and how they handled their skeletons. If I was to ever expand this to other countries there would definitely be more showing PTSD symptoms, but maybe not as pronounced as Al's. I kinda tried to explain some of this in the chapter so read it and tell me if it makes sense or not. I think it does but everyone has a different theory.**

**Alright I'm sorry that took so long, I just had to get it off my chest. So I'll just shut up now so you can read.**

Chapter 8

(Germany)

It was very late when Germany arrived in England. It doesn't usually take so long to travel there but there had been a number of setbacks that had caused Germany to arrive much later than he had anticipated. He had made sure to call the island nation ahead of time though so he at least knew that he was going to have a visitor.

He knocked on the door and waited a minute before it opened. England was at the door and Germany noticed that the country looked very nervous. "Oh Germany you finally arrived," England said tightly

"Is something wrong?" Germany asked. England quickly shook his head.

"It's nothing you need concern yourself with," he told him. "Please come in." He led Germany into the living room and Germany noticed America's bomber jacket hanging on a peg on the wall.

He was _still_ here?

Germany looked back at England as he sat down. England didn't sit though and started pacing back and forth through the living room. "So how is Italy doing?" England asked distractedly as he paced.

Germany sighed. "I'm afraid he's gotten worse," he confessed. "I'm trying everything but nothing seems to be working."

"I'm sorry," England said and Germany could tell that he meant it.

"Danke. I was wondering if I could speak with America? Perhaps if he talked I could understand what Italy's going through." England shook his head quickly.

"Not right now," he said. Germany was surprised.

"Why not? I saw his jacket on the wall so he must be here." England was already shaking his head again before he could finish.

"No you can't see him tonight. You see, Alfred was just taken off of his medication recently. He's been doing really good, but still…"

"He's been on medications?" Germany asked. England nodded.

"They help keep his mood stable until he can handle it himself. He suffers from shell-shock and PTSD among other things. I've been slowly weaning him off of them, but it's hard to tell if it is working," England continued on and Germany nodded, the wheels inside his head spinning. He'd had no idea America had been on medication, but somehow it made sense. It seemed America hadn't learned how to push the memories back and keep them there.

He'd always known America was a slightly cracked on the inside with only a temporary seal. It was one of the things that made Germany wary of ever getting him truly angry. And if the normally cool and collected England getting this nervous over the issue it meant that it was pretty serious.

"I didn't think this kind of thing could happen to nations," Germany muttered to himself. Sure they'd all been through hell and back, several times really. The things they've seen and experienced would cause a normal human to go insane in five seconds flat. However, nations are wired differently, something in their brains allows them to process what they see and then put it in the past.

Sure, countries have grown depressed here and there when certain memories force their way back up, Germany was no exception. However, he'd always been able to put them back in the past and focus on the present. They needed to keep functioning and take care of their people after all. He busied his hands and mind with paperwork and little side hobbies like baking. All of the countries did these things and were to an extent able to move past horrible events in their lives.

It was a wonder that some of the nations are able to still pull themselves out of bed in the morning especially those like Russia and China. But they did it anyways, it was their duty. Maybe personifications like Italy and America were just wired differently than the rest of them, they felt their pain deep within themselves and weren't able to let go of it. They had to have someone teach them how to let go.

As they were talking a strangled scream echoed from the house.

The tortured noise made the hair on the back of Germany's neck rise and his thoughts immediately went to Italy. The noise didn't sound human. England had stopped pacing as the noise moaned throughout the house. Then England was off racing followed quickly by Germany.

He followed England down a flight of stairs as into a room. It was a room similar to those in interrogation rooms with a one-way window looking into another room. The lights turned on as the Brit ran in, probably motion sensors. He didn't question why England had this type of room in his house. Each of them had something similar in their own houses.

Germany came in quickly behind him and gazed out the window. On the other side was a concrete room resembling a dungeon of sorts. He was shocked to see America kneeling on the ground, his hands chained above his head to the wall. His head was bent towards the ground causing his hair to cover his face. He let out another scream that sent a shiver through Germany. It sounded like a wounded animal.

He looked at England and saw his hand pressed up against the glass, his eyes watching America intensely. "Why is he like this?" Germany asked.

"He asked for it," England mumbled, his eyes fixated on America. "He was worried something like this would happen so he wanted to be prepared. He wanted to try and handle the memories on his own." Germany watched as America flinched and curled in on himself, his hands straining against the chains.

"What is happening to him?" he asked.

_Is this what happens to Italy as well_, he wondered to himself.

"He's going through a war," England said simply. Germany didn't understand so England turned to him, his eyes finally leaving America.

"You see, America can't handle certain parts of his past, namely war. The memories will come up and engulf him and he can't tell that it's not real. He keeps reliving the deaths of his people and the lives he took himself in whatever war happens to pop up." Germany glanced at America who was straining against his restraints.

To think that this had been happening for god knows how long… Germany had a new respect for the nation.

"Why are his hands chained?" Germany asked. "Is it so he cannot use a knife to hurt himself?" England shook his head.

"No, he doesn't use a knife. He uses his own nails and claws at the skin." He said it very matter-of-factly but Germany could see that it hurt the island nation. "That is where Alfred and Italy are different," England continued. "What he does is very much primal. He's moving on instinct alone. Italy however is making the choice to use the knife to get rid of his pain." Germany couldn't believe everything England was telling him.

No matter how cold and arrogant England sometimes came off as to the other nations, he did care about them. He realized though that this was a special situation. If Germany had been anyone else, England would have never told him so much about America. It was as much a matter of pride as of personal privacy.

"He asked me not to interfere," England said softly, his eyes unfocused. Germany glanced back up at him. "He wanted to try and stop the nightmares on his own." England's hands curled into fists and steeled himself as another scream rattled through the room. Germany turned to look at America and could see cracks beginning to form around the metal bolts in the wall. England chuckled to himself quietly.

"That git is going to ruin my walls again," he mused, trying to cheer himself up.

"Surely he can't rip them out of the wall…" Germany started to exclaim before trailing off. He'd heard the rumors like everyone else about America's superhuman strength. Of course when asked America always said it was true, but he would say that whether it was right or not. Nobody had ever asked Canada since no one barely saw him. France had bragged about it once or twice but Germany doubted everything that came out of the Frenchman's mouth, especially since he was friends with Prussia.

This was the first time he'd heard England mention the subject. He was starting to think those rumors were true though as more cracks formed, spreading out. Then in a sudden movement America pulled the bolt holding his right arm back out of the wall, the metal dully thudding to the ground. The two countries held their breaths as his hand moved towards his wrist. However he seemed to pull back at the last moment and his hand instead gripped his chest tightly. England let out a small sigh of relief.

"… Ar… Arthur…" the two could hear through the microphones set up in the room. England nodded to himself. He turned to Germany.

"Feel free to sleep in any rooms upstairs for the night. I think Alfred will be able to answer your questions tomorrow. Now if you'd excuse me…" he trailed off as he hurriedly left the room. Germany just stood there, staring into the next room as England entered. He quickly moved towards America and produced a key which he used to unlock America's shackles.

America's arm dropped limply to his side and for the first time he lifted his head as England squatted in front of him. His eyes were puffy and red from crying so much and it looked like he'd been through hell and back. Somehow he managed a small smile when he saw England. "I did good didn't I?" he asked, his voice weak and scratchy. "The war's over right?" Germany watched the back of England's head nod.

"Yes, you did brilliant. The war is over," he agreed, planting a chaste kiss on his forehead and helped America to his feet. The larger nation leaned heavily on England as he was half-dragged out of the room.

Germany came up a little bit later to find a room for him to stay in. He passed by England's room and couldn't help but peeking in quickly.

He and America were lying in bed, both clearly exhausted. They slept on opposite sides of the bed, America spread out over most of the bed while England held firm to his own spot. Only their intertwined hands connected them, but it seemed more than enough for the both of them.

Germany smiled as he made his way to his own room. He'd always been jealous of the two nation's relationship. He wished he could have something like that with someone someday. He sighed and lay down in his bed.

Tomorrow was expected to be another long day, but hopefully he'd get the answers he so desperately needed.

**Alright so whadya think? I hope I got in enough USUK fluff at the end there to make everyone happier! They'll be sticking around for the next chapter and then they disappear until the end :( **

**Verdammt Germany stop being in denial! Just admit your feelings already!**

**I hope I kinda explained a nation's mindset towards PTSD and self-harm. While they know it can happen to humans, they don't really expect it to happen to themselves. Same thing with cutting, it's just not even thought of as an option in a country's mind. Severe depression yes, but even anything remotely considered suicidal. At least that's my explanation for this story. Hope it makes sense!**

**Alright so hopefully I will get the next chapter to you guys tomorrow and if I don't then I'll get it up as soon as I find the time!  
See ya later!**


	24. Bearing the Cross Chapter 9

**Next chapter! Wooh!**

**Hope ya enjoy!**

Chapter 9

(Germany)

He woke up the next morning, his mind a little hazy.

He flipped himself over and half expected to see Italy asleep next to him like he sometimes did. But there was nothing but crumpled sheets and Germany felt disappointed hum through his body. Then he quickly found himself turning red as his tired mind truly woke up.

Not wanting to think about it he quickly got dressed and headed downstairs. He smelled something good and followed his nose to the kitchen. Inside he found America and England already up. America was busy making waffles while England was grumbling.

"Oh good morning Germany," England said politely as he noticed the country come in. America turned around and smiled at Germany.

"Aw sweet man you're just in time. The waffles are almost done."

"I don't know why you insisted on cooking breakfast," England said with a sigh as he sipped his tea. "I could have easily made us some scones." A shiver ran up America and Germany's backs simultaneously. "In your dreams Iggy," America retorted playfully.

It amazed Germany how quickly America could bounce back. Only eight or so hours ago he was screaming in agony and here he was now, joking with England, seemingly normal. Germany wondered how much of what he saw before him was genuine or if this was a mask put on for him and England to see. Germany supposed he'd never know since he hadn't even realized the mask had been on all along.

"Stop calling me that," England snapped halfheartedly. America's smile grew bigger. England shook his head and sighed but Germany saw the corners of his lips quirk into a small smile. He was snapped out of his thoughts as England looked back over at him.

"Please do come sit down Germany. As Alfred said, breakfast will be ready in a moment." He gestured to the small table stationed in the room, already set for the three of them.

"And that moment is now!" America declared as he brought a plate of freshly baked waffles over towards them. Germany accepted the food graciously and together they ate, America babbling away the entire time. The other two nations quickly tuned him out, or at least Germany did, nodding along as the words flew over his head. He was used to nonstop, useless chatter from his own brother, though America certainly gave the ex-nation a run for his money.

England actually paid attention, humming along in agreement or nodding as he allowed the almost completely one-sided conversation to run its course. After they were down England took their plates and put them in the sink.

Germany decided now was the time to ask America his questions. "Okay, shoot," America suddenly said as he looked at Germany. Germany was surprised. He hadn't even said anything yet. "What?" he stuttered in surprise. America smiled.

"Contrary to what everyone thinks I've become very good at reading the atmosphere. I'm sure you want to get back to Italy as soon as you can," he presumed. "So just ask me your questions now so you can catch a flight back soon." Germany nodded, the questions starting to come tumbling forward.

"I know what is happening to you and what is happening to Italy are two different things, but your pain is the same. What is it… How did…" Germany trailed off, his words getting mixed up in his head.

"It's okay, I get what you're trying to say," America told him. He glanced over at England. "You can leave if you want. I know you don't like hearing about this." They watched England shake his head firmly.

"No, I'll be fine," he told them. His voice left no room for an argument. America looked at him for another moment before sighing in defeat and looking back at Germany.

"The pain is indescribable," he said bluntly. "When it hits you there's nothing you can do to stop it. You just have to endure it for as long as you can before you resort to… other measures. Sometimes I can hold out for a while... sometimes not so much. It haunts your every waking moment and more than often it finds its way into your dreams as well." America glanced uneasily at England but England was staring hard at the floor.

"How can I help Italy?" America sat back in his chair and sighed as he ran a hand through his locks.

"You have to find out what the source of the problem is and how to fix it. For me, I needed medication and Iggy constantly watching me to make sure I didn't have a relapse or something. Italy might need something completely different. But before that you have to shock him out of it first."

"Shock him?" Germany repeated curiously. America nodded seriously.

"I didn't just magically realize what I was doing to myself ya know. Iggy did several… things that made me realize that I wanted to get better." Germany looked at England now.

"What did you do?" he asked England curiously. England scowled at the ground, still refusing to meet anyone's gaze.

"Well first he destroyed my wine cellar," America joked as England remained silent. "Then he kept haunting my ass and hanging around me constantly. He also attempted to kill Mattie and me with his scones, and he nearly succeeded with Mattie." Germany watched England's face flush and his steely glance waver uncertainly. America took a deep breath.

"But none of that really helped until…"

"Until I hurt myself," England finished, finally looking up at the two countries. He pulled up his shirt sleeve, revealing his healed cuts. Many of them had disappeared, but there were more than a few that would become scars. Germany quickly averted his eyes. Though Italy didn't seem to care about who saw his cuts and scars, Germany _did_ and it made him feel very uncomfortable to think about the reasons they were there.

"I didn't really mean to do it on purpose at first," he admitted as he rolled the sleeve back down, the scars hidden once more. "But it had its intended effect." America took a shaky breath and nodded in agreement as England unconsciously moved closer to America. Even though America had gone to staring at the table top he instinctively reached out and grabbed England's hand, tugging him closer still. Finally his eyes lifted back up and met Germany's.

"I couldn't stand to see him hurting himself. I got really scared and angry at him and then it kinda hit me that that's what everyone was feeling towards _me_." England tightened his grip on America's hand, his eyes once again finding the wooden floor very interesting.

"But like I said earlier, first you gotta find the source of Italy's pain." Germany nodded.

"I'd go and ask Romano and Spain," England suggested. "After all they are the two people Italy is closest with besides you and Japan." Germany nodded again.

"Yes I think I will go talk with them. Thank you both very much. I realize that most of this is information you'd rather have kept to yourself."

"As long as you don't post it on Tumblr then we shouldn't have a problem," America said with a wide smile. Germany was confused. What was a 'Tumblr'?

"I think what Alfred's trying to say is to be discreet," England explained as he rolled his eyes at America and dropped his hand to cross it against his chest in annoyance. Germany nodded and tried not to smile at the interactions between the two nations. It was like night and day sometimes with their constantly changing moods.

"I can do that much," he promised as he got to his feet. He made a mental note to find out what Tumblr was. Somehow he had a sneaking suspicion that Prussia knew _exactly_ what it was.

**And there's the chapter!**

**Sadly now Al and Arthur are disappearing until the very end but we get Romano and Spain in their place for the next chapter and who doesn't love our tsundere Italian ;)**

**I think I may go back and edit that last chapter... I don't know if I like how it turned out...**

**Oh well but in the meantime review? Pretty please with an OTP on top?**


	25. Bearing the Cross Chapter 10

**Alright guys, say hello to Spain and Romano again! :)**

**You guys have been awesome and I read every one of your reviews even if I don't reply to them all. Like today since I'm just wicked tired from school and just have enough energy to get this online for you guys. Yeah, definitely gonna be a tough year this year...**

**Anyways sorry this chapter is a bit short but it's a revelations chapter so I'm catching all our nations up to speed, no more being left in the dark!**

**Hope you guys enjoy it!**

Chapter 10

(Germany)

He left around mid morning and arrived in Southern Italy about three hours later. As expected, Romano was home and Spain was hanging out with him. "What do you want potato bastard," Romano asked warily when Germany showed up at his door. "Have you fixed my brother yet?" Germany shook his head.

"Actually I wanted to talk to you about Italy," Germany told him. Romano narrowed his eyes at him but then Spain came around and put an arm around Romano's neck, causing the Italian to momentarily lose his concentration and curse at the Spaniard loudly. "Don't worry about Romano mi amigo," Spain said happily. "Come on in."

"It's okay," Germany said. "I just have a few questions to ask."

"Well then spit them out," Romano snapped. Spain looked at Germany curiously.

"Well, I was wondering if you knew what was causing Italy so much pain?" he asked. Romano frowned at Germany.

"Do you think if I knew what was wrong with him that I'd just be sitting in my house you ass-hat?" Romano retorted sarcastically. Germany ignored the tone.

"Well I heard Italy mention France's name. It sounded like he was angry with him. But I thought Italy and France got along well, so it didn't make any sense to me. Did France ever hurt Italy?" Germany's eyes narrowed as he saw Spain and Romano turn white.

"Dios mío. Don't tell me it's about him," Spain murmured.

"Of course would be," Romano replied as he looked at the ground, his voice suddenly becoming much gentler. "You remember them don't you?" Spain smiled sadly.

"Ah, they were so cute together," Spain agreed.

"What are the two of you talking about?" Germany snapped, his patience running low. Romano looked up at him and Germany was surprised to see the amount of violence and hatred in them.

"It's all your goddamn fault my brother is like this!" he yelled and then slipped out of Spain's arm and disappeared inside, angrily muttering in Italian.

"Lo siento," Spain said as he watched Romano walk away. "It's not a subject he likes discussing very much."

"Would someone please tell me what is going on?" Germany pleaded. Spain nodded and stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

"Come," he said. "Let's take a walk."

…

"Back when Italy was a child he lived in Austria's house for a while. Austria also happened to share his house with Holy Rome," Spain told him as they walked through town.

"Holy Rome?" Germany asked curiously. "I don't think I've heard of him before." Spain nodded.

"Probably not. His full name was Holy Roman Empire, but we all just knew him as Holy Rome. Nobody really talks about him for France and Italy's sake. Technically though he was Prussia's younger brother before you came along." Germany was surprised to hear his brother's name. Prussia had had another little brother before Germany? How come he'd never said anything about it?

"I didn't know that," Germany replied.

"Yeah, I figured as much. I'll let Prussia explain that bit for you, but anyways Italy worked in Austria's house as a maid. He was so small and cute back then that everyone mistaked Italy for a girl!" he said with a laugh. "The two boys became very close though. I didn't come over to Austria's house a lot back then since I was too busy dealing with Romano, but when I came to see Italy they were inseparable. However, Holy Rome's own house wasn't very stable so he had to leave. He wanted to unify his people and then come back as a strong world power. So he and Italy said their goodbyes. Italy kept telling me that they'd promised each other that one day they'd meet again. He'd given Holy Rome his old deck brush that he used to clean Austria's house with of all things!"

Germany's eyes widened in surprise, an image of the deck brush Italy treasured locked in his arms. Surly it couldn't be the same one? "He said that it would keep him safe until he returned." Spain continued. Spain's eyes grew dark. "That day never came though."

"What happened?" Germany asked.

"France happened," Spain replied sorrowfully. "He was afraid of what would happen to Holy Rome if he did unify and become powerful. So at the end of the Thirty Years War, he pushed to have Holy Rome weakened. I don't think he ever meant to kill him though, but with his added influence Holy Rome's country collapsed and he died. None of the news reached Italy though for a few years. Eventually though, France broke the news to him. Italy went berserk, almost practically declaring war on France if Romano hadn't stopped him. Something inside him broke that day and he's never been the same since."

The two countries fell into silence as they came back around to Romano's house. "I understand now why Romano wouldn't want to talk about Holy Rome," Germany told Spain. "But why did he say it was all my fault?" Spain scratched the back of his head as he opened the door.

"Well it's just that you look exactly like Holy Rome," Spain replied. Germany's eyes widened in surprise. "If he was still alive, I'd think you two were twins," Spain added.

"So to Romano I am a constant reminder of the child Italy was friends with and to Italy I am a walking reminder of his best friend?" he asked. Spain nodded.

"Sí, but you symbolize more than that to Italy. He and Holy Rome weren't just friends. They loved each other in every sense of the word, even though they were just children back then. For Italy you represent not only the memory of his first love but also the life he could have had if Holy Rome had come back. Sometimes I imagine what life would have been like if he had come back," Spain mused. "I imagine they'd have a nice place on the countryside and would draw pictures all day long just like they used to. Oh, lo siento, you don't need to listen to me rambling. You should go back and check up on Italy," Spain told him. "I'm sure there's a lot you want to talk to him about."

Germany nodded, though suddenly he did not feel up to facing Italy very much.

**Alright so chapter 10 is done and over with. Germany now knows about HRE! **

**We'll be shifting back to Feli so get those tissues ready my friends.**

**Phew, I'm done, just done. I think I might grab a snack or something but then that would require me moving, which requires energy, which I don't have anymore, but I'm hungry... eh my brain hurts... I feel like Greece ;)**

**So I'll you later. Review?**


	26. Bearing the Cross Chapter 11

**Hey guys, sorry this thing wasn't up yesterday. My friend slept over my house and we spent all night watching Hetalia (I've now shown her the light XD ) making France-related jokes that are too inappropriate to put up here, kicking each other's butts in Smash Brawl, having pizza at midnight and in general having a blast. So I apologize but I'm back and posting the chapter that is scheduled for today up a bit later as well. **

**So hopefully two chapters in one day makes up for my unscheduled absence :)**

**Lol I love reading your guys' comments. Like seriously some of you people are freaking hilarious!**

**Anyways for the guest who asked if this would be continued with any other characters the answer is both a yes and no. Personally I will not be writing any new stories in this universe about any other countries. However, I have given my permission to cherryfeather101 to use this universe/plot line and do a Poland story. So if you want any sort of continuation you'll have to look to cherryfeather for that.**

**So guys, there's only actually a few more chapters left before this fic is officially brought to a close. So I just wanna thank everyone who's reviewed/fav'd/followed this fic. You guys have officially reached Prussia-level awesome and I just wanna say THANK YOU!**

**Alright, no more chick-flick moments here (for now) so go and enjoy your scheduled chapter.**

Chapter 11

(Germany)

The two countries said goodbye and Germany made his way back up to Italy's house. Japan greeted him at the door.

"Oh thank god you're back," Japan said, evidently relieved. "Did your trip to England help?" he asked as Germany walked in. He nodded vaguely, his mind still filled with all this new information. "That is good. Italy has become too much for me to handle on my own," he confessed. "I am not well suited for dealing… with someone like him."

"It's okay Japan," Germany replied. "Even I am having a hard time dealing with him. Where is he now?"

"He's out back," Japan explained. "He said that he wanted to get out and get some fresh air."

Germany nodded and began to move towards the back door at the end of the house. He stopped though and turned back to Japan.

"Japan you can go back home now," Germany told him. "Thank you for looking after Italy for me." Japan nodded.

"Hai no matter who he says he is, Italy is still my ally and my friend," Japan said. "I wish you luck."

"Danke," Germany said as Japan left. He would definitely need it.

…

(Italy)

Italy leaned against the trunk of the tree, his eyes gazing out at his country. Italy's house was about twenty minutes outside the city and had a large backyard covered in untamed meadows. He felt his eyes burn as he looked out at golden fields. So much had happened here.

Italy felt himself smile as the memories came flowing back. There were so many to pick from.

He had taught Holy Rome how to draw on these hills. He watched as a phantom younger version of himself sat next to Holy Rome, directing his hand and giving him artist's advice as he attempted to paint the bunny nibbling on grass in front of them. It had been a very bad painting, but Italy had treasured it.

Looking a bit to the left he saw him and Holy Rome running through the tall grass, Holy Rome desperately trying to catch up to Italy. Italy felt his smile fall. He'd always been quicker on his feet than Holy Rome. Now it seemed though that Holy Rome was finally ahead of him and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't catch up.

Looking down now, Italy could see the small stream that ran through his estate. He could clearly remember when he and Holy Rome went swimming in it. Holy Rome had been so embarrassed because he thought Italy had been a girl and they had been swimming without their clothes on. He half expected Holy Rome to run up to him and ask him what he was doing leaning against that old tree.

_But it's a very special tree_, Italy explained to the phantom Holy Rome in his head. _I had it planted after you left. It was supposed to symbolize our promise, our dream. It has grown quite big in your absence but it's still waiting just like me._

Since his dream with Holy Rome Italy kept thinking that his lost love was just going to magically come around the corner and surprise him. He was having a hard time keeping track of what was real and what wasn't.

Perhaps it was because of the amount of blood he'd been steadily losing, or perhaps it was the symptoms of starvation finally kicking in. In a way Italy didn't mind. For just a few minutes, he could pretend that everything was as it should memories where nice and they brought Italy away from the pain and to happy times.

As he sat there leaning against the willow tree a figure moved towards him through the field. Italy sat up, peering closer, squinting against the evening sunlight in his eyes. He felt his breath catch in his throat. For a second he saw him. His blue eyes glowed happily smiling at Italy, his black cape billowing behind him. He beckoned Italy towards him to shower him with his love.

But then Italy blinked and he was gone.

Now tired blue eyes met him, his mouth set in a thin line. He wore black pants and a white shirt, his normally slicked back hair a bit messy from the amount of travel he'd done today. Italy was surprised to see the German back. He'd thought that he'd just shifted Italy over to Japan to handle and get back to his life.

A small part of his mind had been upset at the thought that Germany would give him up and abandon him, but isn't that what he'd wanted? To get away from Germany and never see him again? These questions had plagued Italy for the past few days and he couldn't quite understand this feeling of relief flooding him upon seeing Germany walk up to him. Italy couldn't possibly be feeling anything for the blond. He should only be feeling this way to Holy Rome!

Still as much as he wanted to deny it, Italy's heart skipped a beat as he was nearly standing in front of him.

"What do you want?" Italy asked flatly, expertly masking his inner emotions. Germany didn't retort back. Instead he came and sat down against the willow tree next to Italy.

"You have a very pretty backyard," Germany commented as he looked out. Italy frowned.

"I suppose it's nice," he conceded. Why was Germany acting like this? Why wasn't he dragging Italy inside the house?

"My house is in the middle of the city, so we can't have something like this," Germany continued.

"I didn't ask you about your place," Italy retorted. Germany shrugged. "Why are you acting like this?" Italy questioned suspiciously. Germany let out a long sigh.

"I've had… a very, very long day," he told Italy. "I didn't want to end it with us arguing again, if that's okay with you." It took Italy a moment to think of something to say back.

"Whatever, I don't care what you do," he retorted. They lapsed into silence and just listened to the crickets buzzing away in the tall grass. Eventually the sun began to set in the west and Germany finally got up to his feet.

"You know I made a promise to you a long time ago," he said as he looked down at Italy. Italy felt his heart skip a beat again. Why did Germany have to look at him like that! It made him feel all flustered inside, he didn't understand why! He'd only felt these things one other time, but it couldn't possibly apply to the man who stood in front of him.

"What you mean the alliance between us and Japan," Italy asked sarcastically. "That alliance ended a long time ago." Germany shook his head.

"That's not the promise I'm referring to," he told Italy. "I promised you that I'd be your friend no matter what happened."

"Please," Italy retorted. "You just said that to placate me." Again Germany shook his head.

"I meant what I said and I intend to keep that promise, no matter what," he stated. Italy's eyes widened in shock. Those words…

"Well I'm getting ready for bed," Germany said. "You should head in soon too." Italy nodded numbly and watched Germany walk away and back to the house. Carefully he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his hands around his legs, his head resting gently on his knees.

_Don't worry Italy. I mean what I say. I'm going to keep my promise and come back soon, no matter what!_

Italy felt a single tear trace down his cheek.

Damn that German.

He couldn't tell the differences between him and Holy Rome anymore, let alone his feelings towards them and it _scared_ him.

**Aw, poor Feli :(**

**I promise it's going to get better within the next chapter or so.**

**So you guys know the drill. I wanna hear it all from you!**


	27. Bearing the Cross Chapter 12

**Alright guys, like I said two chapters in one day! Woo Hoo!**

**I already told you guys how awesome you are but if you need another boost in self-confidence then I'll gladly repeat myself**

**You. Are. All. AWESOME!**

**Okay okay, you guys are probably all sick of these constant a/n's at the top so I'm just gonna shut up and move everything I was gonna say down to the bottom, so enjoy m'kay?**

Chapter 12

(Italy)

Italy was afraid to be in Germany's presence now, his every action triggering some hidden memory deep in Italy's mind of Holy Rome. He would feel his cheeks turn pink and he couldn't tell if it was because of Germany's presence or because of Holy Rome.

_No it couldn't be because of Germany_, Italy reasoned. _The only man I ever loved was Holy Rome._

Still he couldn't help watching Germany from his window as he went out into the backyard for his training or feeling secretly happy when he came back in. Italy would make a point now of ruffling Germany's feathers, a gleeful feeling blossoming in his chest as he was chastised by the taller country. He found himself starting to enjoy the German's constant attention. Then he would catch himself and then the crying would ensue.

It was strange to be crying so much after going for centuries without shedding a tear. It seemed to only amplify Italy's pain.

It was like a civil war playing out in Italy's heart. One side fought for his love for Holy Rome while the other held on to his growing affection for Germany of all people. One fought to stay trapped in the past while the other cried that it was possible for Italy to move on, and that it was high time he did. It made Italy feel even more out of sorts than usual and inevitable he turned to the blade. At least he tried to.

Surprisingly Italy found it harder and harder to pick up the blade, even when he was feeling depressed and knew that the pain would wash it all away. He just somehow couldn't force him to do one or two shallow cuts at most before he'd start cleaning up his mess. Every time he pressed the blade to his skin he'd see an image of Germany looking at him and the disappointment in his eyes somehow caused Italy to feel unsettled about what he was doing.

Germany had asked Italy to come outside with him in the evenings, not to train but just to relax in the fields. Italy refused him every time, but when it was dark out and Germany was asleep Italy would sneak out of the house and spend hours just walking through the fields.

On one such night after it had gotten very dark Italy snuck out and made his way to the willow tree. Sitting down he looked up at the full moon above his head, its silvery light bleaching the land black and white. If only Italy's feelings could be so easily defined. A breeze shifted through the air, causing Italy to shiver. It was a chilly night out tonight.

As he gazed out at the fields a figure moved in the darkness towards him. Italy felt his heart skip a beat and he leaned forward excitedly. Which one was he getting excited to see though? Holy Rome or Germany? Italy felt vaguely disappointed yet happy at the same time when he realized that it was Germany coming towards him. "There you are," Germany said as he came up to the tree.

"What are you doing out here?" Italy asked, irritated.

"I could ask you the same thing," Germany retorted, causing Italy's cheeks to turn red.

"This is my house," Italy shot back. "I can do whatever I want." Germany sighed.

"Aren't you cold at all?" Germany asked as he looked at Italy. He had been more prepared than Italy and brought a coat out with him.

"No," he replied but then the wind picked back up and Italy couldn't help the shiver that ran up his spine. Germany sighed and then to Italy's surprise Germany's coat was being tucked around him. He glanced up at Germany as he squatted down in front of him to pull the coat more firmly around Italy.

Germany glanced at Italy and their eyes locked. Italy felt his cheeks flare as he lost himself within the depths of the German's blue eyes, sort of noticing that Germany's cheeks were turning pink as well.

"Italy…" Germany said hesitantly. Then Italy realized what was happening and suddenly shoved himself back, his back hitting the tree hard.

"Stop looking at me like that!" he cried as he shut his eyes tightly.

"What are you talking about Italy?" Germany asked, clearly confused. Italy felt himself shaking slightly.

"Stop acting like him!" he cried. "Stop pretending that you're _him_!" Germany stood up, suddenly realizing what was happening and who he was referring to.

"Why can't you just let him go?" Germany asked angrily. Italy opened his eyes, stunned by the anger in the German's voice. "You've been hurting yourself for centuries over one dead boy! Italy, it's not healthy to hold onto something like that for so long. You have friends that care about you and hate seeing you like this. You need to move on and accept that he's not coming back!"

"No I won't!" Italy cried. "I promised him that I would wait for him!"

"But he's not coming back! He's dead!" Germany shouted back. "You can't keep a promise to a dead man." Italy felt like he'd been slapped. "Just let him go."

"I won't forget about him," Italy shot back. "If I forget about him then that will mean that he'd be truly gone!" Italy couldn't help the tears that overflowed. He always had been an over-emotional country, especially when Holy Rome was mentioned. Italy watched Germany's face soften.

"Italy you need to move on," he said in a much softer voice, his grip tightening but in a comforting manner on Italy's arms. "You'll just continue to hurt yourself the tighter you hold on to him."

"And why do you care?" Italy hissed through his tears. "I'm just some weak nation that became your ally in the 40s that you could use as a shield. I've never been anything but a bother and nuisance to you." Germany shook his head.

"Italy you know that you are more than just another ally to me," he responded. "I… I care about you." Italy watched as Germany's face turned red but he continued on. "It hurts me to see you in so much pain and I'm trying to help but you won't let me in."

Italy felt himself being split in two. Half of him clung desperately to Holy Rome with all his might, cursing every word that came out of Germany's mouth. The other half though listened to what Germany said and started to look away from the past and towards a different future.

A future where he was no longer all alone.

"How do I know you're not lying?" Italy mumbled, his eyes downcast. Germany realized that this was Italy's defining moment.

"I'll prove it to you right now," he said and reached into his back pocket, producing a small folding knife. Before Italy realized what was quite happening Germany flipped it open and pushed up his sleeve. Italy stood in mute horror as Germany pressed the blade against his smooth skin. A trickle of blood ran down to his wrist and dripped onto the ground.

With a sudden cry Italy leapt up and knocked the knife out of Germany's hands. "What the fuck is wrong with you idiota?" he roared as he stared Germany down angrily, his whole body quaking in terror. "Why the fuck would you do that to yourself?"

"How do you think I feel when I see you doing it?" Germany yelled back. Italy took an involuntary step back.

"I-I didn't think…" he stammered, his thoughts scattered. Germany sighed.

"That's because you weren't thinking," he said in a normal voice. "Do you understand how I feel now?" Italy could. He still felt the anger and fear from just witnessing it. He didn't realize how much it affected him to see Germany in pain. Dio he really _did_ care about Germany, no matter how conflicted his heart was.

"I just… I…" Italy trailed off, unable to find any words to convey what he felt. Germany nodded as he rolled his sleeve back down.

"I know that I'm not Holy Rome," Germany said softly. "I know I cannot take his place and I'm not asking to. All I want is for you to be happy again Italy, and if that means that you never want to see me again, well then I'll leave right now." Italy stared at Germany as he looked away.

Then quite suddenly Italy threw his arms around Germany. Germany was shocked for a moment before awkwardly putting his arms around Italy. "Don't go," Italy whimpered. "I can't lose you again."

He wouldn't lose someone he cared about, never again.

As he looked into the fields in front of him he saw himself and Holy Rome as kids running through the fields. Holy Rome turned back and looked at Italy, smiling brightly. _"It's okay Italy," he said. "I just want you to be happy again!" He watched as his younger self returned to Holy Rome's side and waved at Italy. _

_"__Come on Holy Rome," he said playfully as he tugged on his cape. Italy smiled as Holy Rome's face turned bright red before he was dashing off again with little Italy._

_ "__I may look different when we meet again, but I will return to you. I promise."_ His words echoed in Italy's head.

_You did keep your promise Holy Rome_, Italy thought to himself as he nuzzled his head into Germany's shoulder.

_You finally came home to me._

***Blows nose violently and brushes away tears* The FEELS!**

**So there are only two more chapters left which means if all goes well this fic will officially be finished on Tuesday!**

**As always thank you all for your support and if you wanna leave a review I'd be a happy camper.**

**So see ya tomorrow!**


	28. Bearing the Cross Chapter 13

**Alright guys this is it, the second to last chapter**

**Technically this chapter is the ending to Bearing the Cross. The last chapter is kind of a little side-story/epilogue with Germany and explains my HRE headcannon in full. So I hope you guys have enjoyed the ride!**

**Sorry that I over-loaded a few of you guys (well more like a lot of you guys based on your reviews) with so many feels... okay well maybe not but that's just cause I'm evil and stuff ;)**

**I'm gonna save my final farewells for the last chapter since I don't wanna sound all sappy and unmanly so go ahead and READ ALREADY!**

Chapter 13

It took a while, but eventually Italy got better.

With Germany's constant presence Italy finally began to realize all the pain he'd been causing his loved ones. Germany made him reluctantly call Spain and his fratello up and apologize to them. Romano cursed him repeatedly, putting him through the grinder while Spain and Germany stood back. But at the end of it all Romano hugged his brother tightly.

"If you ever do something like that again I'll kill you myself," Romano mumbled against Italy's shoulder and Italy could feel Romano crying on his shirt which caused Italy to start crying on his brother's shirt.

After all the crying was over Spain took Romano home and Italy's heart felt somewhat lighter.

Italy didn't get better right away though. He had several relapses and Germany couldn't catch all of them. The ones Germany did catch though he took the knife away and simply held Italy while he got all the pain out through other means. Eventually though, Italy was able to throw the knife away himself.

He still saw Holy Rome in his dreams sometimes, but then Germany would come bursting in and make Italy talk it out. He realized that talking went a long way in his recovery. To Germany's chagrin though Italy picked up the habit of sneaking into his bed and sleeping with him again.

He usually did it after having a nightmare or when it was just one of those nights were he couldn't sleep. He found that sleeping next to Germany put his mind at ease and he had fewer nightmares. The first few times Germany kicked Italy back into his own room, but after a while he kinda just gave up and let Italy stay.

Eventually, Germany told Italy that it was time that he rejoined the world. So after many debates Germany finally managed to drag Italy to the World Meeting being held in Switzerland.

Italy was nervous about seeing all the other countries again.

What questions would they ask him?

What had they been speculating about him?

He and Germany arrived early for the meeting as was usual of them since he was with Germany after all. Surprisingly though, most of the countries had already arrived when they came in. Everyone had been talking about one matter or another but everyone fell silent when the two nations walked in.

"Are we late?" Italy asked Germany quietly as he tried not to notice all the stares.

"No," Germany replied. "It seems that everyone just decided to get here earlier than normal."

Suddenly the Italian was being assaulted. "What the-" he said in surprise as France pulled him into a tight hug.

"I'm so sorry Feliciano," the Frenchman said quietly, just loud enough for Italy to hear. "Antonio told me what's been 'appening." Italy felt himself stiffen. "You know I'd take it back if I could," he said sorrowfully. "I've regretted it every day." Italy couldn't believe this former big brother was saying all this.

Of course he had initially blamed France for Holy Rome's death and for a long time he had despised the French nation. However, he was in a much better state of mind than he'd previously been, and he'd finally been able to admit to himself that even if France hadn't done it, Holy Rome probably would have died anyways. His country had just simply been too divided to ever properly unite.

Once he'd gotten over that he'd finally found it within his heart to forgive the Frenchman. Still, it was comforting to see that France didn't just brush off Holy Rome's death as nothing.

"It's okay," Italy managed to reply. France finally stopped hugging him and instead moved him back a little so he could look the Italian in the eyes, his hands resting on Italy's shoulders. "Are you sure," France asked, his eyes unusually bright. Italy felt himself nod.

"I already forgave you a long time ago," he replied, managing a small smile. France looked beyond relieved.

"Italie… merci."

"Yo Italy what's up my man!" Italy was startled to see America come sauntering over. France gave Italy a smile before backing away and letting the American through.

"He-hello America," Italy stuttered as the large nation slung his arm over the Italian's shoulder.

"Glad to see you finally came back," America said with a large grin. "Now it won't be so boring anymore!" Italy couldn't help smiling at America's unbridled enthusiasm.

"See look at that, you did learn how to smile naturally," he said quietly to Italy, giving him a knowing smile. Italy nodded slightly. "Come on dude you can sit with me and Iggy today!" America declared.

"You git, stop calling me that!" England yelled from across the room. America laughed and stuck his tongue out playfully at him.

"It's okay America," Italy said as he slipped out from the nation's arm. "I think I'll sit next to Germany today." America pressed his hand to his chest and did a mock performance of being stabbed but he was smiling the whole time. "Too bad dude, you're missing out," America replied happily before going back over to annoy England some more.

Italy shook his head in amazement and followed Germany to their seats. It was unreal to see how America could just bounce back like that. It gave Italy hope that perhaps he could bounce back like that too.

Switzerland called the meeting to order and for the most part the meeting went smoothly. No one was asking any of the questions Italy had feared they would. It was almost like he hadn't been gone at all, which was nice.

They were almost done with the meeting and everyone was itching to leave and head back to their rooms. Italy was pretty tired and worn out himself and was looking forward to taking a nice nap in his room or maybe surprise Germany in his bed. Italy felt his cheeks turn pink at the thought.

Suddenly there was a commotion beside him as Romano started cursing Spain when Spain tried to play with his curl. His flustered brother slammed his chair into Italy's and sent Italy flying into Germany with a loud, "Veee-".

The collision caused Germany's chair to fall back and everyone leapt up to their feet to see the scene on the ground for it was a one in a million scene.

Italy was lying a top of Germany with his hands clutching Germany's shoulders for support. Due to the way the two nations had fallen back Italy and Germany ended up kissing! Italy was shocked at first when he felt Germany's lips against him, his cheeks flaring. He hadn't realized how much he would have liked it as his eyes started to flutter shut. The last person he had kissed was Holy Rome, and here he was kissing Germany of all people!

Germany was just as stunned at Italy with his hand wrapped halfway around him protectively to keep him from getting hurt. He couldn't deny that it felt strangely pleasant to kiss the Italian either and his cheeks turned bright red.

This all happened within the span of a few seconds mind you.

"Holy crap their kissing!" America cried having climbed up on the table to see what was happening. "Iggy I wanna make out in the meeting room too!" He was quickly swatted at by England, who was cursing him rapidly with flaming cheeks.

"Ohohoho," France laughed. "I didn't know you swung that way Germany," the Frenchman taunted.

"Kesesesese I knew it all along," Prussia proclaimed next to France.

"Ah Romano, why can't you do something like that for me?" Spain whined.

"Fuck off idiota," Romano shot back, his face turning the shade of the tomatoes he constantly ate.

"Why are you all trying to corrupt my little sister?" Switzerland roared as he pointed a mysteriously acquired AK-47 (seriously where does he gets them from? Does he hide them under his shirt or something?) and pointed it at them. Italy jumped off of Germany and the two got to their feet avoiding looking at each other.

"I'm going back to my room," Germany muttered and then walked out of the conference. Italy lingered for a moment more.

"Ve- I'm going too," he stammered before scampering off after Germany. He was followed out by catcalls and wolf whistles by the other nations.

"Germany, wait up!" he called as he caught sight of the blond quickly moving down the hall. He paused and looked back as Italy ran up to him.

"Oh Italy," Germany said as he came up beside him.

"Ve- Germany I'm sorry about that," Italy said quickly. "It's just that Spain tried to make a move on Romano and he slammed into my seat and," he rambled quickly. No matter how much Italy had loved the feel of the German's lips against his he didn't want to ruin his friendship with Germany.

"Nein it's okay," Germany replied, grabbing Italy's hand. Italy looked down in surprise as Germany laced their fingers together. He looked back up and saw Germany's cheeks had turned pink once again. "Come on, the hotel isn't too far from here. We can walk there. I-If you want to of course." Italy smiled happily as they strolled outside and through the city.

Italy looked up and for a moment he saw Holy Rome standing beside him smiling at him gently. Then he blinked and Germany was back, but the feeling in Italy's heart did not change. In fact it seemed to grow. "Why are you smiling at me like that?" Germany inquired suspiciously, his face turning redder. Italy smiled.

"It's nothing," he assured him. Germany didn't seem holy convinced but looked back ahead as they walked anyways. Italy would never be able to forget Holy Rome and his memory. He'd always have a place in Italy's heart.

But it went a long way to put his mind at rest to see that his spirit still lived on.

**Heya guys, so how'd I do?**

**I hope you guys like the GerIta in this story. Honestly I can't write them being all lovey-dovey and confessing their feelings like with USUK. To me they just _are_ ya know? It doesn't need to be shouted to the world, it's just not their style (well not Germany's at least). I dunno, it's hard for me to explain really but that's my thinking anyways.**

**Anyways as always please leave a review if you have the time!**

**Alright, tomorrow is it. The big day when I'm gonna change this from in-progress to complete *sniffles* **

**See you then :)**


	29. Bearing the Cross Chapter 14

**Holy crap... I can't believe this is the last chapter... like... wow...**

**Thanks to everyone who's read this thing, from the people who came in half-way through or even maybe last chapter ;) to those who've been along for the ride from the get-go. You guys have been nothing but fantastic and I'm glad I've been able to give you guys something to read. Sadly though, it ends today (at least for this story).**

**God... I sound so sappy and cliche but I don't know how else to say it :)**

**Alright, this is basically the epilogue of Italy's story and will explain my Holy Rome headcannon so I hope you guys once again enjoy!**

Chapter 14

(Germany)

Germany walked through the woods, a light morning fog still clinging to the ground, shrouding everything in gray. The decreased visibility didn't cause Germany to falter though. He was on a very important mission and he wasn't about to be stopped by the weather.

His hands tightened around the wild flowers he held. It had been a week since the World Meeting.

After some careful poking and prodding, he'd gotten Italy to reveal where Holy Rome had been buried. He wanted to pay his respects to the former nation and to talk to him. Italy had given Germany the flowers, picking them from his back yard. Germany hadn't been able to get Italy to come along with him.

Though he'd been there before a few years after Holy Rome had been buried, he didn't have the strength to come back, not yet anyways.

His grave was hidden deep in the woods in a small clearing near a stream. Germany stopped when he got to the sight and looked around.

Birch trees surrounded the clearing and in the center of the clearing was a small weathered stone grave marker. It didn't have any words on it, or if there had been they had been washed away by the changing seasons over the centuries. It was what was behind the gravestone that captured Germany's attention.

A huge willow tree towered behind it, its long branches protecting the grave site. It was almost the same one that was planted in Italy's backyard. Somewhere in the back of Germany's mind he realized that it was no coincidence.

He walked forward, the fog muffling any sounds he made.

Gently he bent down and placed Italy's flowers beside the grave marker. His other hand came up and touched his iron cross gently.

"So you finally found this place?" Germany looked up in surprise and was shocked to see Prussia materialize out of the fog. He was sitting on the ground against the willow tree. Germany hadn't even sensed his presence at all. His red eyes flashed and he smiled at his stunned younger brother. "What are you doing here?" Germany managed to get out once he got past his initial shock.

"Oh I was just talking with Holy Rome," Prussia replied as he looked down, patting the ground gently. "I've been trying to keep him updated on all the awesomeness going on in the world, but with all these World Meetings going on I haven't been able to come out here recently." Prussia glanced back up at Germany. "Is Italy here?" he asked.  
"Nein I couldn't convince him to come," Germany told his brother. "Prussia… why did you never tell me about Holy Rome? He was your younger bruder right?" Prussia sighed.

"Ja he was my younger bruder. I didn't tell you because I don't really like talking about him very much."

"Do you mind talking about him now?" Germany asked hesitantly. Prussia let out another sigh.

"I suppose the awesome me could talk about him," he conceded. "Honestly though I wasn't around much for him. He spent all his time at that stupid aristocrat's house and I was off being awesome and kicking Russia's ass. When I did go over to Austria's house Holy Rome was always off playing with little Italy. Eventually though his house started falling apart and he had to fight a war with France and we all know what happened to him," he said, glancing at the grave marker.

"For a while all the territories that used to make up Holy Rome just bickered with each other until I stepped in and set them all straight. That was about when I found you. At first I thought you were Holy Rome come back from the dead." He managed a small smile at his own joke. "But it became clear that even though you looked exactly like him, you were very different."

"Do you know why I look just like Holy Rome?" Germany asked. Prussia shrugged, looking back at the ground.

"I don't know. A nation is created based on the image and emotion of the people. Perhaps they weren't ready to let go of Holy Rome just yet so they recreated his image using you? However I don't think that's quite it. I think a piece of Holy Rome's spirit stayed alive inside you. After all, he had promised to return home to Italy one day." Prussia glanced back up at his stunned brother. "Anyways, that was Holy Rome."

Germany snapped back into attention as Prussia got to his feet. "Well, I talked with him long enough. The awesome me is going back home to take an awesome nap. See you later West." With that he was gone, disappearing back into the mist as silently as he had appeared.

Germany glanced down at the grave stone. He hadn't expected his brother to tell him all that information. It left his head reeling but now he seemed to have a better understanding of this mysterious nation. He thought of something to say to the grave stone.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "Thank you for making Italy so happy back then. Even though you're gone he still loves you dearly."

It felt strange, talking to a lump of dirt and a grave stone, but Germany kept going.

He had one more thing to tell Holy Rome.

"I know you made a promise to Italy that you weren't able to keep. You can rest easy now though. I'll take on that promise now for you. I'll make sure to keep your promise until the day I die."

**And that's a wrap.**

**Sorry it's a bit short, but short and sweet is sometimes a good thing :)**

**As always review and tell me what you think. For those of you who are following my other fic "Blast from the Past" I will be updating that very soon now that this is finally done. I've got a few other semi-finished works kicking around on my laptop too, so don't expect me to be gone for long ;)**

**See you guys round!**


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